


Serpent Tongue

by shini_amaryllis



Series: The Fine Grey Lining [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drinking to Cope, Earth Magick, Female Harry Potter, Friendship, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hope being cleverer than in Looking Beyond, Hope really just wants to be in control of her life, Hope-Daphne-Hermione new trio, Is this an AU? bitch it might be, Monsters, Multi, No Horcruxes, Pirates, Prejudice, Pureblood Society, Rebellion, Sea Magick, Slytherin Descendants, Slytherin!Hope, Suspense, Tragedy, Traveling, basically pirates and magic and myths galore, book 1 is about as canon as it gets, dark and grey magic, family ties, getting very AU now guys, there are so many FMA allusions but its for a good cause
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 260,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shini_amaryllis/pseuds/shini_amaryllis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope Potter was everything Albus Dumbledore feared; a girl just as clever, just as dangerous as Tom Riddle had been. Their physical similarities and likeness blinded him to the truth. That Hope wasn't afraid of befriending a Muggleborn Gryffindor or even a Slytherin with pro-grey leanings. That Hope Potter was an unpredictable pawn on his chessboard. FemHarry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discoveries in Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, I am posting the fic that I'm sure you've all been looking forward to, given by the positive response my Slytherin!Hope snippets. I know I planned to post this, like, a year ago, but time got away from me and Serpent Tongue's chapters are going to be more than twice as long as Looking Beyond's.
> 
> (For those of you who are reading this before Looking Beyond and are confused, the genderbent Harry is already in existence in a 150 chapter long fic, this is merely a 'If Hope Potter was more clever and ambitious than I wrote her originally' kind of fic)

Self-sufficient nearly ten year olds aren't particularly uncommon, particularly when they grow up in a situation where they are forced to think less like a child and more like an adult.

That was the kind of situation Hope Potter grew up in.

At ten years old, Hope Potter had perfected the art of unnerving stares, sly smiles, and cold eyes that stabbed you when you least expected it. She was clever and silent, like a snake in the grass waiting to strike some who met her thought. Even at a young age, this had been obvious to Hope.

It had also been obvious to her that she was not normal or ordinary.

Magic did not come as much of a surprise to her, but it certainly garnered a bit more of an awed expression than most things Hope had experienced in life.

Children could not just turn their hair and eyes different colours and change the shape of their face and body, at least ordinary children could not.

Because Hope Potter was not ordinary; she was a witch.

And suddenly why her family hated her so much became crystal clear.

Life with the Dursleys was a misery to be sure, but Hope refused to leave without a plan set in place, without one, she would probably find herself lost and confused.

So, Hope spent most of her days in the town library, immersed in the shelves, melting into the background, searching for a way into the magical side of her life, in the hopes that she would get far away from the Dursleys, and that was where he found her.

But most of the books that the library possessed were not the type she was searching for, in fact, most of them dealt with the early witch trials. The images burned into Hope's mind as she shut the books with a grimace marring her lips.

There really wasn't anything of value, was there?

"You won't find what you're looking for there," a pleasant voice commented and she looked up.

The stranger was beautiful with a head of loose bronze curls, and etched features as though from marble like a Greek statue she'd seen in her history books. His spectacles glinted from the sunlight filtering through the window, making it impossible to see the eyes beyond, even if the lenses weren't darkened.

A dark eyebrow rose as she studied him appraisingly. "Where would I find what I'm looking for?" she asked and he smiled.

"You? Perhaps Gringotts might be of service, dearest," he hummed and Hope started at the name he referred to her with.

"Gringotts?" she asked instead, tilting her head slightly, a few stray dark curls falling out of her loose ponytail and against her neck (she didn't wear it up or long when Dudley's around, because he always took it as an invitation to tug). "What's a  _Gringotts?"_

"It's a bank, dearest," the man spoke lightly, fingers hooking into the pockets of his jeans before withdrawing a small card and extending it to her. "You'll find what you're looking for there."

Hope's eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion as she read the address, opening her mouth to speak, but when she looked up he'd gone.

She looked around, but there wasn't any trace of him.

He'd vanished…like  _magic_.

Green eyes considered the card and then she shoved her books back in her bag, hoisting it high on her shoulder as she exited the library swiftly, nearly knocking into a bushy haired girl walking animatedly beside her father.

Hailing a cab was no trouble and paying for the trip was even less. Hope had been systematically stealing several pounds a week for months now with only about a pound a day to keep her guardians from being suspicious. Convincing the cabbie that she wasn't going to be on her own was another thing entirely, but eventually Hope found herself at the address on the back of the card, at a place called the Leaky Cauldron.

Hope eyed the establishment with a dubious air. Perhaps she shouldn't have trusted the word of a stranger who hadn't even told her his name, but there had been an air of familiarity about him.

The dark-haired girl gave a small sigh and pushed the door open and entered what she discovered to be a pub.

It was the strangest place Hope had ever seen and Petunia would probably be frothing at the mouth at how dirty it was.

The clientele were certainly the strangest part about the pub. One man looked so pale he could have competed with Hope's Stranger's complexion, but the hint of fangs peeked out of the edges of his mouth as he drank a red drink that smeared the colour over his lips made them very different. There was a woman with a hooked nose and more warts than Hope had seen in her life sitting at a window muttering gibberish under her breath.

"Can I help you, little miss?"

Hope jerked at the question, lifting her gaze to the man who had been wiping down the bar. He was a balding man with pale eyes and by far the most human-looking person Hope had seen since she'd stepped foot in the pub.

"Erm, yes," Hope twisted the card between her fingers, "can you tell me how I get to…Gringotts?"

The man gave her a kindly smile before pointing her in the direction of a door that led outside, but only to a short wall.

Maybe he was having her on.

Hope lifted a hand to brush it over the harsh stones only to jump back in startled surprise when they melted away at her merest touch.

Her mouth fell open and she gaped widely as the stones had exposed an alley along a rickety road with a number of misshapen buildings seemingly smashed against each other. It had an old feel to it, like she had stepped into a town in the tenth century.

Hope doubted she'd ever been down a road that she'd liked as much as Diagon Alley (as according to the small card that was the road's name).

"I see you found your way here well enough."

Hope tilted her head back to look up to the speaker. It was the man again, with a smirk present on his lips.

"Well enough," Hope agreed, repeating his words with narrowed eyes. "Now, are you going to tell me why I'm looking for a bank called Gringotts?"

A russet-coloured eyebrow arched and the smirk on his lips widened. "Do you always go where strangers tell you to?"

"Of course not," Hope said with an air of distinct annoyance. "But there's something…odd about you…"

She was sure his eyes were glinting behind those shaded spectacles of his.

"Odd? Surely  _not!"_

She scowled further, turning her eyebrows orange briefly before they returned to the typical black as the man knelt in front of her so that their heads were now level and then he took off his glasses.

Where his eyes should have been was solid black, as though onyx had been grafted to his eye sockets.

Hope started slightly in surprise at his eyes, but her surprise settled quickly into caution.

"Who are you?" she asked with eyebrows drawing together, confusion evident on her face.

"I," the man said with a great deal of amusement as he replaced the spectacles over his eyes, "am Thanatos, Hope, do you know what that means?"

How he learned her name, Hope had no idea and it only served to increase her suspicion towards him.

"Thanatos is the death god in Greek mythology," Hope intoned in a rather dubious voice, crossing her arms and canting her head. "You're a Greek god?"

"Don't believe in gods, dearest?" Thanatos hummed, lips twisting upwards.

"I'm polytheistic, of course I believe in gods, I just don't believe that  _you're_  a god," Hope clarified, looking him up and down. Of course, he certainly had the bearing of a god, as though he'd watched an age go by.

"Oh, and what makes you think I'm  _not_  a god?" Dark eyes glinted as he grinned.

Hope wrinkled her nose at him. "You look too ordinary," she decided with an air of finality.

"Perhaps I wouldn't stand out as much if I wore my toga," he mused thoughtfully.

Hope's lips pursed together. "Okay…you  _might_  be a god," she conceded, "but why would the god of death have an interest in me? Am I on your To-Die List?"

"You do know there actually isn't a list…I'm not the grim reaper," Thanatos sighed, ducking his head slightly in exasperation.

Hope arched an eyebrow.

"Technically, the names are kept in a book," Thanatos muttered, "but that's not the point."

"There was a point?" Hope asked innocently, earning a firm stare in return.

"A long time ago I had three sons," Thanatos told her, "one was named Ignotus Peverell, Hope, and he was your ancestor."

She opened her mouth, confusion clear in her eyes which filtered into a bright impossible blue briefly as she tried to wrap her head around that idea, that Hope Potter, the girl with dead parents and a different hair colour every day of the week when in school, could actually be related to Death himself.

Hope compared herself to him. Their hair and eyes were very different, but Hope could change her features at will, so that didn't really mean anything; Hope had never seen a picture of her parents, so she couldn't be sure which one she'd inherited her features from. And Hope had always been rather fair, though not to deathly pale that he was…but if he was her ancestor, there wouldn't be many traits that she could have inherited from him given how distant she was from him on the family tree…if he was telling the truth, that is.

"Prove it," she said, with the foreknowledge that it wasn't going to end well for her.

Thankfully, there weren't many on the street to bear witness to her failings.

Thanatos, it seemed, had been waiting just for a response like that and before Hope could start to fully regret her decision, he had smirked widely and the air rippled around his hand as a cloth scroll came into being.

"Your family tree," he said, extending it to her with a flourish as an intricately carved knife fell from within the furls of the cloths.

Hope had never seen anything like it before in her life. It was more a piece of art than a weapon, a thing of beauty rather than destruction. Perhaps that was what its forger had been going for. She hefted it with fascination, letting the light refract off every surface it held. The blade was silver, but more of a dull silver than one that shone, and Hope suspected that was intentional, with a hilt that more closely resembled a tree branch around which a snake was wound.

"Who's is this?" she couldn't help asking.

"I believe it once belonged to Morea Avis, the wife of Salazar Slytherin."

"Who?" They sounded like remarkably odd names if you asked Hope. Morea sounded a bit Greek, but Salazar…that wasn't a name she could imagine anyone using.

"Consider them the patriarch and matriarch to the family line," Thanatos offered her as he unfurled the tapestry and Hope was surprised at the sheer number of names on the cloth. "Now, this is only the direct line…if you want to map out your complete family tree, you'll need a bigger cloth."

"There's more than this?" Hope asked, distracted by the last three names on the tapestry.

 _James Potter_  and  _Lily Evans_  were connected by a thick black line with a single green thread descending from the joined lines to Hope Potter, but under the black-threaded name was a second one in green.

" _Elpis Slytherin?"_  Hope read the name slowly.

She knew the myth surrounding Pandora better than she'd like to admit, mostly because the spirit of hope, Elpis, was a very important part of the myth. It was better to be connected to a myth than to have to listen the sheer number of puns that her name could be used as.

"Your ancestral name…several of Salazar's descendents had similar names," Thanatos explained, waiting patiently for her to come to a decision concerning whether or not he had spoken the truth about their relation.

Hope frowned in contemplation as she rolled the tapestry back to the very top, where, just as Thanatos had said, the names  _Salazar Slytherin_  and  _Morea Avis_  were met with a line of black. From their union had been two children,  _Nelda_  and  _Adrian_. Hope followed Nelda's line down the tapestry until she came to a stop at the name  _Adeliade Peverell_  that was connected with a golden thread to a golden name, Thanatos.

From the name were three names,  _Cadmus, Antioch_ , and  _Ignotus._

Green eyes narrowed as they fastened on the man kneeling before her.

"Maybe I believe you," she said, "but why tell me now?"

"I beg your pardon?" His confusion was evident.

Hope gave him a blank expression in return. "I've been an orphan since I was one year old, why wait so long to find me?"

Hope's dream of finding a long-lost relative to take her away from the Dursleys had died years ago and it was no use getting her hopes up, not even for a god with a kind smile.

In another universe she might have accepted his words with open arms, but this Hope had long since hardened her heart to the world she lived in. She had never experienced the kindness of strangers, even ones so eerily familiar.

He arched an eyebrow for good measure. "Have you ever come across a myth concerning a god that cared for his half-mortal child?"

Her face screwed up as she tried to recall the variety of myths that she had read since she had first begun to read.

"No, I don't think so," she said finally.

"Your home environment is not ideal, even I have to admit, but I can recognize protective wards when I see them." He tapped a spot beside his temple, close to his left eye. "And since they are there for you, I opted not to interfere with their placement."

"Protective wards? What're you talking about?" Her eyebrows drew together and her hair gained a brown streak for a brief few seconds.

"We'll speak about it the next time I visit, shall we?" Thanatos smiled as he rolled his weight back from his knees onto his feet and pulling himself into an upright position.

"You can't just leave after laying something like that on me!" Hope burst out in the first show of anger since their conversation had began.

His laugh was light and clear and it hardly suited his persona as the feared god of death.

"We will meet again, I promise," he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately, almost ruining her high ponytail and Hope released an indignant squawk. "But the path you walk, dearest, is yours to walk and yours to walk alone. You are the author to your own story…so why don't you get to writing?"

And when Hope had blinked, the man had vanished entirely, leaving Hope on the empty road, clutching a knife that belonged to her long dead great-something grandmother and a tapestry older than anything else in life she had come across.

Hope scowled at the cobbled ground as though it was at fault for the disappearing act of the person who had been standing upon the stone moments previously.

Then she rolled the tapestry up with the dagger caught between furls of the cloth and shoved it in her messenger bag, muttering angrily to herself.

There were so many things that Hope was still uncertain about, and she didn't like being uncertain.

Magic was the most uncertain thing in her life and she didn't mean that in a bad way. She knew of its existence, obviously, given the sheer number of accidents that occurred around her, but here she was standing in the middle of what clearly was a magical street (how could it not be with stores like Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, and Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions?).

She pulled the card he had given her back at the library, flicking it with her fingers.

The large white building, towering high above all the other shops lining the street, was a little farther down the road, but even at the distance, Hope found it quite imposing.

She could leave. She didn't have to listen to Thanatos, she had come this far, she could turn around and hightail back to Privet Drive.

But she didn't.

In ten years she hadn't found a single place she belonged. Number Four was a nightmare and her school was hellish. She was the rebel that no one wanted to be friends with, the one who Petunia and Vernon couldn't handle being smarter than their unintelligent son.

But here…here there was possibility for  _so much more_.

Hope could feel the magic in the air, like a constant warm that roved over her skin, comforting her without anyone even being there.

Who cared if Thanatos was lying or telling the truth? Who cared if she'd never fit in with non-magical sorts? This…this was her chance…her chance to finally be the person she'd known she was deep down.

The thought simultaneously thrilled her and made her terrified, but Hope had come this far, and she wasn't ready to give up.

Hope swallowed the fears that were roiling deep in her stomach and took one step and then another, making her way slowly but surely down the street until she was standing before the massive double doors that led inwards.

_How bad could a bank be?_

Hope Potter was in for a shock.

* * *

Hope had no idea what to make of Gringotts once she was inside.

The building seemed to be larger on the inside than it was on the outside with a great domed ceiling from which several chandeliers dangled, crystal glinting in the light.

But it wasn't the building itself that was the problem…it was that it was run by a kind of creature Hope had never seen before.

They were short with beetle black eyes and pointed teeth, speaking to each other in low guttural tones.

_What were they?_

It wasn't that Hope had anything against them…but she didn't know what they were and didn't want to seem rude and ask for clarification.

Hope fingered the strap of her messenger bag nervously as she stood in line behind a tall man wearing a great deal of black who had to stoop to speak to the creature behind the desk.

There had been one of the creatures at the doors wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, but there were even more within. There were long counters on either side of the long hall with the creatures sitting on high stools (Hope suspected that with their short stature they didn't often get to look down on people), some examining jewels, others weighing what appeared to be gold, and some jotting down notes onto parchment.

She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to the strangeness of the magical world, especially since Thanatos had chosen the approach that was similar to a snowball to the face, leaving her scrambling to right herself.

"Name?"

She jumped at the snide voice directed towards her and she blinked upon the discovery that the man in front of her had finished his business and disappeared while she was looking around the building.

"Erm…Hope Potter?" Hope said, the statement of her name sounding more like a question. She was glad they hadn't asked her why she was there, because she had honestly no idea.

That got the creature's attention and he –she assumed it was a he, given the deep voice he spoke in– leaned physically over the counter to look at her with an expression she couldn't identify.

"Hope Potter?" he repeated her name.

"Yes," Hope bobbed her head for good measure before belatedly tacking on a "sir."

The respectful way she had spoken to him in was clearly something he was not used to, but he took it with good grace.

"You will have to prove that first," he said in a boring drawl and Hope eyed the podium apprehensively.

"Prove…that?" she said carefully, confusion evident even as she winced at the sound of him stamping something into a piece of parchment before extending the parchment to her.

"Walk down to the first door past the counter," the creature directed her, pointing in the direction she was meant to be moving in, "that is the room for Identity Verification."

"Okay…" Hope frowned at the slip of parchment as she followed his instructions, knocking politely on the door and cracking it to peer inside. "Erm…is this Identity Verification?"

"It is," the creature sitting at a short table grunted with a definite note of boredom in his voice. "Shut the door behind you."

Hope got the feeling that the creatures that ran the bank were the type to not dance around an issue, preferring to be rather frank.

He dipped an elegant quill in an inkwell, filling out a parchment on the date of the request. He slid it across the table to her, indication a line at the bottom. "Sign here please."

Hope's cursive wasn't that great, but she hadn't had much on the subject and she didn't particularly like writing it. But she made do.

"Now I'm going to need a bit of your blood."

"Excuse me?" Hope's eyebrows rose so high on her forehead that they disappeared beneath her dark fringe.

He released a loud sigh at her lack of cooperation, but Hope really couldn't have been blamed for that, she was rather new to the whole idea.

Without letting her move or even speak more of her confusion, he reached over the table to grasp her wrist, turning it to expose her wrist and picking up a slender dagger and nicking her pointer finger with a small slice that was enough to give just enough blood but also small enough that it would heal without much trouble.

He smudged her finger against the parchment, seeming to not notice the wince she had given upon him cutting her finger, before releasing his grip on her hand, allowing her to move the finger to her mouth.

She, however her ill feelings towards the creature before her, watched the parchment with fascination as a number of words became scrawled across it from the moment her blood touched it.

"Hope Potter," he read out the words, "daughter of Lord James Potter and Lily Evans…heir to the Noble and Most Ancient Houses of Potter and Black, and of the Noble Line of Slytherin…"

Most of those words meant nothing to Hope, but to find out her father was a lord of some kind was actually kind of ironic, given how the Dursleys viewed her mother and father.

"You're going to cart me off to someone else, aren't you?" Hope asked wryly and the creature gave the closest approximation of a smirk she had seen yet.

"Yes," he said, "I am."

But this time, he was the one that took her to her next destination which was a rather ornate door that told Hope that the person beyond was a rather important individual.

He knocked twice, more loudly that Hope would have, before a voice within spoke a muffled, "Enter."

"A Hope Potter to see you, Ragnok," he said shortly before pushing her inside and shutting the door after her.

The room was darker than the hall outside, lit with lamps that cast shadows. An painted portrait rested behind the carved desk and high-backed chair and Hope jumped when she saw that the painted figure was actually moving, blinking and glowering at her as though she was something terrible.

"Welcome, Hope Potter, I'm afraid you've caught me off balance, I wasn't expecting you for another year at least."

The voice came from the one who was sitting in the high-backed chair and he was remarkably similar to all the creatures Hope had seen since her entrance into the bank, with the exception that his swarthy face bore more wrinkles and the hair atop his head was a fluffy white.

His dark eyes fixed on her expectantly and Hope realized she was staring.

"You were expecting me?" she said blankly.

This whole day was bringing down her self esteem to a level she wasn't sure she could ever rise above.

Thankfully, her response seemed to amuse him. "Most children who pass our walls upon their entry are eleven years old."

He waved her forward and Hope sank into the poufy armchair that was positioned in front of his desk. Compared to it, Hope was impossibly small, nearly disappearing into its cushions.

"Is eleven a significant age?" Hope asked, still clueless.

He seemed surprised by the question, lacing his fingers together. "Miss Potter, you do know what this establishment is, don't you?"

"Erm…a bank for magical people?" Hope offered before admitting, "I don't know much about the…magical community, I guess I should call it…this bloke just told me I'd 'find what I was looking for here'." She used her fingers for air quotes for good measure and Ragnok arched an eyebrow.

"And what exactly are you looking for, Miss Potter?"

"To learn about magic…to get away from my family, take your pick." Hope had never really thought about what Thanatos had meant, too caught up in the thrill.

"I imagine this is all very strange and confusing to you," he said with a bit more understanding than his colleagues.

"A good bit, yes," Hope sighed with a wince. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way…but I have no idea what you… _are_ …erm…could you—?" Hope was failing at wording the question properly and her words trailed off.

To her eternal relief, Ragnok didn't take it as an insult, only a clarification. "I and my kind are goblins," he informed her, "just as you and your kind are witches and wizards…though you are also a Metamorphmagus, according to Griphook's Identity Verification."

"What's a Metamorphmagus?" Hope asked flummoxed, stumbling over the word.

"It's someone who can change their appearance at will, it's a very rare skill," Ragnok told her, "only one other person has that skill…but we are drifting away from the matter at hand."

If there was a matter at hand, Hope certainly wasn't aware of it.

"At the age of eleven children are sent acceptance letters into magical schools around the world, some schools start at a much earlier age, such as Athene Academy in Greece, but most follow the typical starting age at eleven. For you, Hogwarts School For Witchcraft and Wizardry will certainly send their letter for you a few weeks before your eleventh birthday," Ragnok explained with surprising patience.

"Oh," Hope said.

Surveyed her silently, watching the varying expressions that spread across her face before he got up and unlocked a small drawer behind the desk, removing a small box and a letter crisp with age.

"Before your parents' death, your father entrusted this to me, to give to you upon your re-entry into the Wizarding world," he said, extending them to her.

Hope took them wordlessly, looking down at them. "I was under the impression that my mum and dad died in an automobile accident."

The goblin arched an eyebrow at that, clearly not having any idea what an automobile was (it, after all, wasn't a Wizarding invention). "James and Lily Potter were killed by a wizard known to the Wizarding World as Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Hope's breath came out short upon that discovery. She had long since accepted that her mother and father were dead of something outside their control (what other reason could have been given to force them to give up their only child), but comparing a car crash to murder was something entirely different. "Who's Voldemort?"

Had she asked someone else the very same question, she would have been subjected to screeches and been loudly berated to not speak that name. But Hope had asked a goblin not a witch or wizard, a goblin who had nerves of steel quite unlike witches and wizards who still feared the name of a long dead Dark wizard.

"Voldemort is the name of a Dark wizard responsible for the First Wizarding War," Ragnok said, "he and his followers killed many during those times, including your parents."

Hope had never really felt a grief towards the loss of her parents, mostly because she'd been a baby when they died and had never properly met them. But their absence from her life was felt keenly.

Her fingers shook slightly as she removed the string around the envelope that bore her name in an unfamiliar slanted scrawl.

A large sigh was heaved when she finally managed to pull the letter free and crease it back to read.

 _Hope_ , it read.

_If you are reading this then your mother and I can no longer care for you, as I have entrusted this letter to the goblin in charge of the Potter vaults and subsequent Head of Gringotts, Ragnok, to be given to you upon your entry into the Wizarding World._

_So, Happy Birthday at least ten times over, Hope, and I am sorry that I could not have stayed longer in this world for you or your mother._

_Voldemort is no closer to discovering our hiding place, to our relief, and I can rest easy knowing that you are in the safe care of either your godmother, Alice Longbottom, or your godfather, Sirius Black, my closest friend._

_Your mother is probably irritated enough with me –as she always is– for writing this letter; she thinks I am too pessimistic. So I will offer you as much advice in as little words as I can manage._

_I once made the mistake of judging a Hogwarts House by their reputation alone, so I ask that you learn from my mistakes. Slytherin blood runs in our veins, you and I, and there's no telling if it will shine more strongly in you than any other Potter._

_We love you more than the stars in the sky,_

_Your father,_

_James_

Hope read the letter twice over before looking up to Ragnok, not knowing her eyes had filtered from her typical green to a bright hazel, her hair lightening from a midnight black to a chestnut brown.

" 'I can rest easy knowing that you are in the safe care of either your godmother, Alice Longbottom, or your godfather, Sirius Black ,'" she read the words out loud with clear befuddlement. "My guardians are my mother's sister and her husband."

"That would have more to do with the fact that neither your godmother or godfather can care for you."

"Why not?" Hope pressed. "What happened to them?"

"Alice Longbottom is currently in the long-term ward at St. Mungo's along with her husband," Ragnok spoke carefully.

"Long-term? What for?" It was clear to her that this 'St. Mungo's' must have been a hospital for witches and wizards (hospitals were sometimes named after saints, weren't they?).

"Insanity," he said solemnly and Hope raised a hand to her mouth, horrified. "While Sirius Black remains in his cell in Azkaban."

'Azkaban' meant nothing to Hope, other than making it clear that it was a prison (what else could have cells like what he was describing?). But that didn't matter, right now, she'd probably be able to find something on the subject at a later date.

"I see," she said instead, mulling the information over in her mind, and then her eyes dropped to the small box still in her lap, carefully placing her letter back in its envelope and putting it between an old book on Nordic runes and Greek mythology that the library had set out on the 'free' rack just outside the building. "What is this?" Perhaps someone else would have shaken the box vigorously to discover what was within, but not Hope.

Hope was a girl who used words more than action; words could cut deeper than any knife if you tried hard enough. Her tongue was sharp and clever and action had never gotten her very far; but her intelligence would.

"Your father asked that we give you these once you came here for the first time, if he was unable to."

Hope's face was a picture of confusion as she lifted the small chest from her lap, examining it closely and opening the lid slowly to see the two rings that lay within.

The Metamorphmagus had never been one for jewellery, that much was very true; she had no delicate rings, dangling earrings, or heavy necklaces like the ones Petunia wore.

The only bracelet she'd had had been leather with a butterfly charm, but it had been worn off by age and elements by the time she was nine.

Now, Hope couldn't bite back a gasp; they were  beautiful.  One was made of silver, melded so that it coiled around the finger, the design matching that of a snake with two emerald eyes as the only gem. The other had an ancient, golden base, set with a glossy black stone with a symbol she did not recognize carved into it.

"They're beautiful," she whispered, holding them in her hands gently as if they were made of a breakable substance. "My father left these for me?"

"He did," Ragnok agreed, "he trusted me to pass it on if he could not."

"Thank you," Hope whispered, her voice low and reverent as she slipped on the snake ring onto her ring finger, the coils tightening until it was no longer quite so loose on her finger. However, the second ring did not magically fit her as the first did, so she simply rested it onto her largest finger, her thumb. She had no way of knowing the power imbued with the black stone.

Her thoughts were in a muddle and she tried to clear them.

"The, erm, Potter Family…do they have any…houses?"

To plan to run away was one thing but to actually do it was another thing entirely, but if her family had their own estate, then she wasn't really running away, was she? She was just going home. (Wasn't she?)

"They have a variety of uninhabited estates," Ragnok agreed, leaving his chair once more to unlock one of the drawers on the side wall that had completely escaped Hope's attention any moment previously and she was now wondering how she could have missed it.

He pulled free a large stack of papers that made Hope's eyes go a little wide as he plopped down into his seat, riffling through them as he searched for something in particular.

"Ah, here it is," he murmured more to himself as he pulled out a long roll of parchment, extending it to her. "This is the listing of estates you are currently in possession of."

There were a lot on the list. Several in Greece, two in Wales, one in a place called the Forest of Morea (Hope wasn't certain, but she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be found on any map), one in Hawaii, three in London, one in Manchester and York, two in Blackpool…the list went on, but Hope focused on one of the estates in Wales, Potter Manor, under which was a secondary name.

"Who's Mindy?" she asked, pointing it out to the goblin.

"That is the name of the house-elf currently in charge of the manor's affairs," he told her, "I believe she has been taking care of the manor since your grandparents' death."

"But not my parents?"

"Well, James and Lily Potter never lived in the manor after their graduation from Hogwarts," he conceded.

Hope bobbed her head in understanding before asking another question (she was breaking one of Petunia's favourite rules, and that was "Don't ask questions!" but Hope had never cared much for the Dursleys rules), unable to help herself, "What's a house-elf?"

Ragnok gave a small chuckle. The subject itself wasn't so humorous, but this was the daughter of a lord wanting to know what a house-elf was.

He cleared his throat before beginning his explanation. "A house-elf is a creature that usually serves the older of Wizarding families. They take care of the establishment and their master, doing whatever they ask, such as cooking and cleaning."

So, what he was saying was that they were the Wizarding equivalent of maids…Hope was going to have to learn all this foreign terminology one day very soon.

"Can a…house-elf be considered the guardian of a sole heir?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her intention.

Her straightforwardness was clearly appreciated as Ragnok wasn't one for beating around bushes, either.

"Yes, as such was often the case in the early sixteenth century," he mused, tapping long fingers against the desk in a pensive manner. "Shall I have a map drawn up for you, for Potter Manor?"

"Please?" Hope asked with a grateful tone present in her voice.

Minutes later the very same map was tucked between her letters just like the letter, and then she was following Ragnok out of the room with a ring of keys that went to several vaults that she didn't know she owned. Several she could only get in for material possessions; books, and gemstones that Hope could turn her hair and eyes the color of.

"Do you always take people to their vaults?" she asked him, while reading the engraved words that were carved above the small cart that Ragnok had directed her to.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

The subtle threat almost made her smile.

"Rarely," Ragnok said, "only in very special cases."

And then he pulled a lever, sending them hurtling off down the rails of tracks that went up, down, left, and right at speeds drew tears from Hope's eyes from the air hitting them.

There was a flash of orange fire, but Hope couldn't have told you if it was a flame from a torch or from a dragon's mouth (but were there dragons? Hope had no idea).

They went deeper and deeper until they came to a jolting stop beside Vault 687 and Hope grabbed the sides so she didn't go reeling into the only goblin she could for certain say that she honestly liked.

"What happens if someone tries to break into a vault?" Hope asked, thinking of the words she'd seen before.

Ragnok gave her a grin that told her it was probably best that no one try to break-in. She suspected imminent death might've been an important part.

He took back the ring of keys he had given her before they'd gotten into the carts, taking a small golden one and sliding it into the almost-invisible keyhole and twisting it.

Hope hopped out of the cart after him, taking the ring of keys back when he thrust them towards her, listening to the sound of so many gears clicking from within.

And then the door swung open and Hope found herself gaping at its contents.

When Ragnok had said her father had been a Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House, she had been surprised, but the non-magical world had nobles and royalty too. However, Hope hadn't really been thinking how much her parents were actually worth.

Hope had never seen so many gold, silver, and bronze coins in her life.

And she couldn't stop thinking just how ironic it was that the Dursleys complained so much concerning how much Hope cost them.

Hope looked down at herself, at the large and baggy shirt she was wearing with a pair of ratty trousers. Petunia had never bought things in her size, but now, she didn't need it, Hope could by herself clothes that actually fit her.

"This is just the trust vault your parents set up for you, until you become of age and can take money from the main vault." He handed her a bag to pile money in. "The golden coins are galleons, then there are silver sickles, and bronze knuts. There are seventeen sickles to make a galleon, and twenty-nine knuts to make a sickle."

He was amused when Hope hastily pulled out a small notepad from her bag, already filled with inked jottings, adding the information with a pen.

"And can this money be exchanged for non-magical money?" Hope fought to remain in control of her desire to leave Number Four.

"Of course," he said once they returned to the cart, going down even further.

The next vault that they stopped at was one that could have been more closely compared to a cave, running long and deep with gold, silver, and bronze pooling in the back of the vault and various gemstones running in rivulets over what appeared to be priceless artefacts and shelves upon shelves of books.

Hope's fingers ran over a thick silver chair that held an emerald to the throat of the bust it was resting on, over the diamond earrings dangling from the bust's lobes, and then her gaze shifted to the books, and there were so many!

Some leather-bound, some not, but all with so many pages that were begging to be read.

"Can I…?" the question could not quite seem to leave her lips as she twisted around, a look of wonderment splashed across her face, not receding from when it had burst into bloom upon the entry into the vault.

"The gems and the books are yours," Ragnok said, "as much as you can carry."

And then a smile warmed her face into a blinding beam the likes of which had never been seen before of the face of Hope Potter.

She tipped two books into her already quite full bag, adding an oval-shaped moonstone and a bloodstone.

Ragnok raised his eyebrows at her choice of gem, having anticipated she'd go more for the more typical gemstones, like crystal, ruby, or emerald.

A small book bound in dark leather bearing a curled snake stamped across its cover fell off a pile of books to tip into her bag when she wasn't looking.

When Hope climbed out of the cart for the last time, her knees distinctly wobbly from the cart's speed, she thanked the goblin profusely for his assistance and help in explaining certain matters to her without whom she would still be walking around in a haze of confusion.

Ragnok waved her off, but she could tell he didn't deal with many respectful clients.

She walked past the podium as the goblin spoke to a man with greying hair and ruddy cheeks, his hand wrapped tightly around a small package smaller than his fist.

"One moment, Mr. Flamel."

Hope strode past him and out into the sunlight which had finally peeked through the grey clouds that had been present through the entire morning.

A loud growl from her stomach reminded her that she hadn't had very much to eat all day, other than a few grapes she'd managed to grab before Petunia had kicked her out of the house.

She could have stopped for something to eat, but Hope found herself effortlessly distracted by the name of the shop she'd just walked past.

Hope took a few large steps backwards, eyes fixing on the name:  _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._

 _A wand!_ Now, there was definitely something magical about having a wand, almost as much as a staff, but Hope would take what she could get.

The Wizarding coins jingled in her bag, only half converted to what Ragnok had called 'Muggle money' (Hope suspected she'd be able to find a book on the subject).

So Hope pulled the door open, the bell at the door making a sharp noise even as it shut after her.

The shop was empty and silent. There were rows upon rows of shelves filled with slender boxes that seemed to be categorized by the colour of the boxes; some were black, others a rusty red, or a murky brown.

"Good afternoon," a voice said to her left and it took extraordinary strain to keep Hope from jumping out of her skin at the sudden voice.

The voice belonged to an old man with fluffy white hair similar to Ragnok's, only this man's was wild and unkempt, giving off a crazed appearance that worked well with his wide and pale eyes.

It was almost unnerving, the way he was staring at her, but Hope took it in stride.

"Er…hello."

The man blinked. "Ah, yes," he said with an air of realization. "Yes, yes…I'm afraid you arrived earlier than I was expecting, but I knew I'd be seeing you soon, Hope Potter."

Hope didn't have any idea how he knew her name; it wasn't as though she had told it to him.

"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work," Mr. Ollivander complimented, taking a few steps forward and Hope forced herself not to take a few steps back. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it –it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

He lifted a finger to Hope's scar on her forehead that she had always been rather self-conscious about and Hope's hand clenched into a fist beside her, her teeth gritting behind her lips; she didn't much like people touching her, particularly not people she didn't know.

"And that's where…" a shadow crossed his eyes before he removed his hand. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said regretfully. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..." His words trailed off as he stepped back and Hope was beyond grateful.

"Well now– Miss Potter. Let me see." From the long robes he was wearing, he withdrew a long tape measure that had silver markings instead of the usual black. "Which is your wand arm?"

Hope held out her dominant right hand and Mr. Ollivander's tape measure measured along her arm and then from the shoulder to the floor…Hope doubted there was a point to it as he left to search for a wand.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch or wizard's wand."

Then he returned, holding out a wand. "Right then, Miss Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and—"

The wand slipped right through Hope's fingers as though it was slippery, clattering to the ground.

"I suppose not," Mr. Ollivander uttered with disappointment, collecting it from the ground and handing her a new one. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—"

Sparks left the tip, startling Hope as Mr. Ollivander grabbed it back quickly, stamping out a small ember.

It went on for what felt like an age until Hope was considering simply giving up. The whole day had left her hungry and exhausted and all she wanted to do was curl up on her small and cramped bed in the cupboard under the stairs.

"Tricky customer, eh?" Mr. Ollivander's eyes had long since gained a manic gleam.  "Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere –I wonder…"

He paused and Hope watched him with a curious sort of frown as he tapped a long finger to his lips before reaching into the stacks again and pulling out a dark red box.

"Black poplar and phoenix feather, ten and a half inches, very pliable, if rather rare," he considered out loud.

"Rare?" Hope asked despite her feet aching from her standing on them for so long. "Why?"

 _"Oh!"_ Mr. Ollivander blinked in surprise, clearly having forgotten that she was there. "Black poplar can be a difficult wand wood to mold, it prefers cores of thestral tail hair. This was the only black poplar wand I've made that has accepted a core other than thestral."

He offered it to her and Hope scrutinized it in the box for a brief second, but she still took the wand, only to be pleasantly surprised when it warmed under her fingertips, shooting off sparks of silver and green.

"Oh, _bravo!_ Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious… " He muttered more to himself as he wrapped Hope's purchase in brown paper.

"I don't understand how it's curious," Hope said, still frowning deeply at his odd reaction.

Perhaps she had been better off not knowing with the way he was looking at her. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather –just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

Hope's eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Miss Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things –terrible, yes, but great."

Hope left the shop with a shiver down her spine and she didn't look back.

* * *

 

Hermione Granger was a very nice girl. She was always on time for class, always did the readings she was assigned, even if they were the most boring topics, and she loved to read.

There was hardly a time that there wasn't a book in her arms.

And it was from reading that Hermione made her first friend.

Hope Potter was girl who did not need to speak loudly in order to be heard, and she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen the green-eyed girl smile and still have fingers left over, but Hope wasn't solemn or serious. She was clever and just a bit sarcastic that was effortlessly hidden in her voice. But she was also kind and with a knowledge of ancient history.

Hope tapped her fingers against her notebook, a distinct frown on her face.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked as she dropped her school bag into the seat beside her, sitting across from her friend.

"Just problems at the house, that's all," Hope shrugged off her concern.

Hope's problems with her mother's sister's family was well known to Hermione, despite the fact that they had only been friends for a few weeks.

"But I'll be rid of them soon," Hope said a bit happily and Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"You're running away?  _Hope!"_

Hope sighed, shaking her head at her friend, mournful of her lack of understanding. "You wouldn't understand, Hermione. You haven't had to live in cupboard under the stairs for your whole life. Your parents love you; my family is disgusted by me."

Hermione couldn't find the words to speak, particularly about the unaffected tone she used when referring to how much distaste the Dursleys had for her.

"Hope…you can come stay with us," Hermione said suddenly, the idea popping into her head swiftly. "Mum and Dad liked you when you came and had dinner with us last week, I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you stayed over."

Hope gave her a slight smile at the suggestion. "You worry too much about me, Hermione."

And she was right to. The last week when Hope and Hermione had been walking to the bus stop to take them close to their respective neighbourhoods, which were in completely opposite directions, ironically, they'd run into some of the people that liked to make fun of Hermione during class.

The tongue-lashing they'd received for their efforts to attempt to do the same outside of school made Hermione's jaw drop and set her firmly on the path of thinking sometimes words echoed louder than actions, but then again, she'd never seen Hope resort to using her fists.

"Besides," Hope said, waving a hand carelessly, "Hope Potter always has a plan. I've got a place to live and someone to look after me, so don't worry."

Hermione chewed on her lip. She wanted to tell her friend not to go, to tell her to stay, but even in her head the reasons sounded so selfish.

"Will you write to me?"

It sounded more like a plea once it passed her lips, but it was better than trying to convince her to remain and be unhappy.

"Of course I will," Hope promised quickly, combing her fingers through her hair and hiking it up into a ponytail. "You're my first friend, Hermione, I won't forget you…maybe I'll come and visit you once I'm settled."

Hermione swallowed her reservations and smiled. "I'd like that."

* * *

Climbing ladders in the middle of the night was not Hope's favourite pastime, but it was her own fault. She should have found the time to look in the attic before her last night in Number Four, but she'd been busy making plans for leaving and there had really been no time to check the attic to see if there was anything of value for her to take with her, which she doubted, but better safe than sorry.

The wooden ladder creaked as she climbed it with a small flashlight lodged in her mouth, sending rays of light across the walls as she pulled herself up, fully in the attic.

She almost wished she'd been given the attic as a room instead, because of how wide it was, but the white sheets over nearly everything would have been a bit unnerving whenever she awoke from a nightmare.

Hope took the flashlight in her hand, sending the light over the sheets, catching one that had slipped off a rectangular-shaped item, revealing two faded letter, L and E.

Lily Evans was Hope's mother.

The dark-haired girl crept across the floor to whip the sheet off the trunk, tracing fingers over the letters that had been faded by age.

Why did Petunia even keep her sister's trunk? Especially given how there had always seemed to be some animosity between them (Hope was taking that from how Petunia could hardly bear to look Hope in the eye, the same eyes she must have shared with her mother, if Mr. Ollivander was to be believed).

Hope undid the clasp and opened the trunk, releasing a small cough from the dust dislodged, but it made sense, since it had been untouched longer than Hope had been living at Number Four.

Within were a number of books that made Hope smile; so her bookish nature was something she had inherited from her mother. There were crisp uniform shirts and skirts on top of dark robes and red and gold ties that were in need of a good washing.

And there was a small photograph that must have been taped to the inside of the trunk's lid, but had long since fallen off when gravity could no longer be denied.

Hope lifted it, shining the light down on it, wincing as the light shone a bit too brightly on it. She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes of the spots dancing before them before looking down at the picture once more.

It was of two people, a young woman with dark red hair that fell down her shoulders in loose waves and green eyes that shone in the sun, while the man had spectacles set over glowing hazel eyes and his dark hair was wild and untamed.

Hope smoothed the dust from the moving image.

James Potter and Lily Evans were wearing diplomas and robes lined with red. Her father had his arms wrapped around her mother's waist, ducking to press a kiss to her cheek as she laughed.

The watch on Hope's wrist gave a sudden beep, and Hope jolted at the sound.

The alarm had been set for ten minutes to midnight, since midnight was when the cab was coming to pick her up, unbeknownst to her slumbering relatives.

Hope dropped the photo back into the trunk, clasped it shut once more before dragging it on its wheels as silently as she could manage to the opening that led down to the hallway just outside Petunia and Vernon's room.

She couldn't help but grimace and pray Thanatos that she wouldn't wake anyone up with her attempts to take the trunk down.

So Hope grabbed the handles of the trunk on one side, silently grunting at the weight as she lowered it as carefully as possible down.

Her muscles burned from the effort, but at least it worked and the trunk didn't open half-way down, spilling out its contents and awakening the whole house.

Lady Luck (which was to say Tyche) was on her side, it seemed and Hope gave a sigh of relief as she climbed down after the trunk, only wincing slightly at the creaking of the ladder as she landed lightly on the ground.

She folded up the stairs that had extended before silently shutting the door behind them.

Now for the stairs.

Hope couldn't help but sag her shoulders a little as she rolled the trunk to the stairs.

If she was someone that didn't care about waking anyone up, she would have just simply dragged the trunk down the stairs, but Hope did care, because Hope was so close to freedom and nothing was going to stop her from reaching it, even if she had to be extra cautious.

But she made it down the stairs just as the cab pulled up to the drive and she looped her messenger bag over one shoulder, opening the door with the other.

And this was when Hope Potter's life truly began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, that's got to be my longest Hope Potter chapter ever! I'm pretty sure that Looking Beyond's chapters never reached 10K.  
> Ragnok the goblin Head of Gringotts is a really interesting character, I found when I was actually writing interactions between him and Hope, which I hadn't really done in Looking Beyond. He's a bit more respectful to those whose vaults he's personally in charge of, and Hope, in return, respects him for being upfront with her. Ragnok kind of took over Hagrid's role in the book, but he didn't explain things that Hagrid might've, like about Hope's parents' death, but I think I'm going to have Remus explain that to her.
> 
> I think the new trio of this fic is going to be Hope, Daphne, and Hermione, or else I wouldn't have bothered bringing her in so early.
> 
> I like to think that this Hope is willing to do a lot more than LB!Hope, who never even tried to leave Number Four until after fifth year.


	2. Hearth of a New Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the positive response, I hope it will continue as the fic grows!
> 
> As for the questions that several of you posed: No, Hope won't have an injured leg, especially since she won't be around Dudley for him to push her in front of a car.
> 
> The pairing for this fic will be HopexGeorge, but it won't show up for awhile, so there won't be flirting much until about fourth or fifth year (which is technically sixth and seventh).
> 
> There will be no other gods or titans to show up in this fic (Elpis herself can be found in Decryption), though I'm sure some will be referenced from time to time.
> 
> I feel like Hope is going to follow Black traditions for her children, as opposed to LB!Hope's children's names, I'm not sure which ones yet…but I haven't planned that far ahead.
> 
> This Hope has a different favourite flower than LB!Hope, and the transfigured burn from LB doesn't exist in this fic.

The cab ride to Wales from Surrey was long and uneventful with the rain pattering against the window as the cabbie drove further and further from the place that had never been Hope's home, not really.

It was too dark for Hope to even attempt to read any of the books currently resting in her messenger bag where it was resting on the seat cushion beside her.

She wasn't entirely certain that the cabbie believed her story about meeting a friend, especially since he'd picked her up at midnight when most sane people were asleep, but he didn't question it.

It was almost four in the morning now, but Hope wasn't as tired as she expected to be, though, it was possible that the anticipation was keeping her from falling asleep.

Hope watched the images outside the window fly past. They'd been driving on a lone road for awhile now with their headlights being the only ones visible in the dark of the morning.

Sooner or later they were going to run out of road.

Hope pulled the directions she had printed off the library computer, wincing her eyes slightly to try to read the words in the shadow, but it was difficult work.

If Hope had some Aetherstone on her, it might have been a bit easier to see, but she didn't want to risk a Muggle (which Hope had learned was the term for non-magical folk) seeing her using a glowing stone to read—

Hope had completely forgotten about the small flashlight she'd used to search the attic.

She shook her head towards herself as she pulled the bulging bag towards her, digging through it until her fingers grasped what she was looking for.

Then she was wincing at the brightness of the light as she shone it over the directions, following the highlighted line of the path they had taken until she reached their approximate location.

Very soon they were going to have to turn onto a dirt road and that would lead towards Potter Manor, though the structure did have a large number of protective enchantments over it, so that meant Hope could see it when Muggles could not.

The rain was coming down harder and the mist was thick, giving the whole area an eerie feel, but Hope knew it immediately when she saw it.

"You can pull over here," she told the cabbie and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You sure, kid?" he asked. "Doesn't look like there's anything out here."

"It's not much farther in," Hope assured him, digging into her pockets, "how much do I owe you?"

The cabbie checked the meter and gave a low whistle. "Seven hundred six pounds—

Hope gave him eight hundred. "Keep the change," she told him before hiking up the bag on her shoulder and opened the door wide, letting the water splash down on her as she pulled herself out of the car before dragging her mother's trunk out of the back when he popped the trunk.

The wheels squealed from disuse as she began to pull it in the direction of the manor hidden in the dark of the night.

The sound of the car pulling away was the only thing she could hear over the rain as she trudged up to the great steps before oaken double door with lions' heads for knockers.

Hope dug into her pocket for the right key, pulling free a bronze skeleton key and searching for a keyhole.

The keyhole was hidden very well and Hope had to slide back a bronze covering that bore the same crest that Ragnok had had her official documents stamped with, the Potter crest.

She twisted the key and the door made a loud click, finally permitting her to open the door and enter.

It was dark and cold, but not as dark and cold as it was outside. The bottoms of her shoes scuffed against the tiled floor as she tilted her head back.

Before her was a grand staircase, carved with precision and Hope had almost expected a chandelier to be dangling from the ceiling, but there wasn't one (Hope wasn't sure if she was grateful or disappointed).

Unfortunately, Hope couldn't make any more out about the manor before a loud crack made itself known beside her.

She must have jumped a good foot at the sudden noise, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she searched for what had made the sound and it was then that she happened upon by far the strangest thing since the goblins at Gringotts.

Once you got over the whole strangeness of them, Hope found the creature was a bit pretty.

It was very small, about the same height as Ragnok, but that was where their similarities ended. This creature had large eyes, blue and bright, slanted at the edges that made them look even less human and bat-like ears that flopped on either side of their head as they moved. Their only article of clothing was a tunic-styled dress of crimson that bore the same crest that the keyhole had possessed.

That left Hope to assume that this creature was what Ragnok had described a house-elf to be, which meant that its name was Mindy.

Hope wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but certainly not that.

"Who is you?" it asked in a high-pitched voice, furrowing its eyebrows as its thin fingers clenched into fists. "How is you getting in here?"

"Erm…the key?" Hope offered helpfully, lifting it up to the light that she was carrying in the form of a dangling lantern.

"Where is you getting that?" the house-elf asked sharply, eyes zoning in on the bronze key in her hand.

"Ragnok gave it to me," Hope said flummoxed, before quickly informing her, "I'm Hope Potter…daughter of James and Lily Potter, if that helps."

It certainly seemed to, if how her eyes widened in surprise was any indication, and then she threw her arms around Hope's waist, sobbing into her stomach, sending Hope's thoughts reeling.

"O-Oh, Mistress H-Hope!" she blubbered, "Mindy didn't th-think she'd ever see you!"

Mindy had never seen the first born daughter and old child of her master and his wife, but she had Mistress Lily's kind eyes and the same colour of hair as Master James, though where his had been an untamed mess, hers were set in loose curls held in a ratty ponytail.

"I'm guessing you're Mindy, then?" Hope guessed once the house-elf had released her from her tight grip.

"Oh, yes!" The house-elf bobbed her head in agreement. "I is Mindy."

The cool air wasn't doing anything for Hope who was drenched all the way to the bone and Hope gave a sudden shiver.

"Oh, Mindy is sorry, Mistress!" The house-elf gave a quick apology. "Would Mistress like a bath while Mindy dries Mistress' clothes?"

Hope was a bit new to the subservient tone in which Mindy was speaking, but a bath actually sounded heavenly.

She opened her mouth to agree when her stomach made a sudden growl that made Hope flush in embarrassment.

"And some food too?" Mindy asked her knowingly.

"Just a little," Hope acquiesced, it was rather early in the morning, after all.

"This way."

Hope was directed up the stairs to a spare room (there seemed to be many) and into that spare room's bathroom. The tub was large enough for her to fit into it with ease, but it seemed to be made for a much larger person than one of her size.

Once it was full, Mindy disappeared (waiting for Hope to remove her clothes in privacy, no doubt) and Hope sank into the warm water with a sigh.

Back at Number Four, Hope had always been the last to use the shower, and the Dursleys had hardly ever left her with warm water, making this probably the best bath she'd had in years probably.

And when she stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel securely around her small body, she found a small pile of clothes by the door, warm to the touch, but it wasn't the clothes she'd come to Potter Manor in.

It was a pair of lavender silk pyjamas that had been hastily –but not messily– hemmed for Hope's slender frame and short stature. Hope had never touched a fabric so fine in all her life and she had to wonder who had worn them before, as they were clearly not hers.

She hiked up the trousers and pulled the button-down shirt over her head, looking at herself in the mirror. The sleeves were still a little too long and the hem of the trousers went past her ankles enough that Hope almost tripped over her feet on the way out of the bathroom.

The spare room had been dark when she'd entered it but now it was lit with a soft orange glow from the lamps at either side of the large bed which was looking to be the nicest bed Hope had ever seen and the first bed she'd ever sleep in (the mattress in the cupboard under the stairs didn't count).

Hope crawled into the bed, under the thick covers, sprawling on the cushion and smiling up at the ceiling for what must have been the first time in a long time.

This place was large and empty but Hope had lived in a small and cramped cupboard for most of her life, and she'd only been alive for a decade, and this was the closest she'd ever come to feeling at home.

She had always spent as much time as she possibly could outside of Number Four, often in libraries, sometimes just walking around Surrey (avoiding Dudley and his crew). School had never been a reprieve, in fact, she hated school, not because it was school but because she was alone and unwanted and she always had been.

No one wanted to be friends with little orphan Potter who always had her hair a different colour every day of the week.

Hermione went to a different school and her situation was similar. Her hair was bushy and her front teeth were a little large and her appearance coupled with her high intelligence and thirst for knowledge had given her unfavourable nicknames like: "Know-it-all" and "Buck-tooth."

But Hope was just "That Potter girl" who had rumours surrounding her family for years, ever since she'd been brought to live with the Dursleys. The first time she'd been taunted about being a bastard she had simply stared flatly at the girl who had attempted to insult her until she backed off (if Melanie Stanley had tripped so hard that she scraped both her knees later that day was not Hope's concern).

She leaned back into the pillow, closing her eyes briefly and inhaling deeply. The room may not have been in use for awhile, but it smelled like lavender, her favourite flower. Hope wondered if that was on purpose, but probably not, since she'd never told anyone her favourite flower (or had anyone to tell that bit of information to).

A smile wormed its way across her face.

This was a life she could get used to, one free of the Dursleys and one where she could sleep every night in a real bed.

* * *

Potter Manor was beautiful…like something out of a fairytale. The sunlight shone through the windows and mist clung to the ivy and moss winding delicately around the manor, giving it more character than Hope would have thought possible.

There were many rooms within, and Hope understood, from Mindy's explanation, that there had once been more to the Potter family, but many had fallen during Grindelwald's regime of power and Hope's parents and grandparents had been killed during Voldemort's.

The Potter family had whittled down to one to continue the line.

And Potter Manor didn't look quite so big from the outside…or maybe that was just the fact that Hope hadn't managed to completely walk around it that made it seem so large.

The main floor held the 'greeting area' as Mindy had so aptly referred to it, which was where the front door was, opening into the area before the grand staircase of marble that was still cold under Hope's feet. Then there was a ballroom –an actual ballroom!– with a rounded ceiling patterned like a celestial map and Hope could only make out a few constellations, the stars that formed Pegasus and Aquila, better known as the eagle that ate Prometheus' liver as eternal punishment (it was a bit of a morbid myth, but Hope found it applied well to her home situation with the Dursleys).

Hope liked the drawing room the best (which could be found if one took a left rather than a right before the grand staircase) out of everything she'd seen yet, including the room she'd slept in; poufy armchairs and couches you could sink into in front of the fire, what wasn't to like?

Her toes tingled from cold against the carpeting in the sitting room, but Hope tried not to take notice, far too enthralled by the building itself.

She had only slept a few hours and she was sure that Mindy probably thought she was still asleep.

The fireplace was large and hosted a still-flickering flame that gave off the impression that it would be going out very soon without any wood so Hope pulled a large log from the iron grate beside the fireplace and placed it inside gingerly.

The fire ate at the wood eagerly as though that had been exactly what it had been looking for.

Hope plopped herself in front of the fire, raising her hands so as to bring warmth to the cool palms as she looked around the room. There were several moving pictures in frames on the mantel, but for the most part, around the room there were only images of landscapes or the sea, and there was one even of a ship in the middle of a storm.

Fingers played with the ends of the small woolly robe she'd found hanging on one of the bedposts of the bed she'd slept in the previous night (or rather the morning) and the fire was reflected in her eyes before she sighed and removed the wand that had chosen her when she'd gone to Diagon Alley.

The roughed wood under her hand was a familiar presence, but Hope had never used her magic intentionally…what if when she did, it didn't come out right?

She gave a soft sigh before pulling herself up again and continuing her explorations, moving towards the dining room instead.

There was a wooden table with carved swirling designs that Hope recognized, though she couldn't be sure from where, large enough to seat six people, which was a sad testament of how small the Potter family was now.

Her fingers smoothed over the winding carvings that the chairs held with their high backs as she made her way towards the kitchen, from which soft noises could be heard, no doubt from Mindy's actions at preparing breakfast.

Hope pushed the door open and the house-elf gave a startled gasp, almost losing her grip on the bowl she was stirring aggressively into whilst positioned on a short ladder that brought her up to the kitchen's counters which were clearly only made with humans in mind.

"Mistress Hope," she tittered, "you should be sleeping!"

"I got some sleep," Hope assured her quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender as she looked around the kitchen with veiled interest.

"How long have you worked for my family?" Hope asked the House-elf, her fingers tracing over the marble countertop, sitting opposite Mindy as she tutted disapprovingly in a fond manner.

"Mindy was brought to Potter Manor when Master James was a young boy," the house-elf said. "Mindy helped raise Master James when Master Charlus, Mistress Dorea, or Lonny were too busy."

Hope took that Lonny was another house-elf that had worked for the Potters but had since then passed on, but she recognized the other names. Charlus Potter and Dorea Black were the names of her grandparents, they were her father's parents.

"Mindy hoped Mistress Hope would be brought home after Master James and Mistress Lily were killed but Mister Dumbledore told Mindy her young mistress was to be raised somewhere else," Mindy continued.

"Mister Dumbledore?" Hope repeated the name carefully. It did sound a bit familiar, and Hope was sure she must have read the name in a book at some point.

"Oh, yes!" Mindy bobbed her head excitedly. "Mister Dumbledore is most famous! Mister Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever known!" Her blue eyes glittered conspirator-like and she leaned forward slightly over the bowl, even though there was no one in the kitchen but the two of them. "Mindy has even heard that Mister Dumbledore's powers rivalled those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his power."

"Voldemort?"

Mindy gave a terrified squeak at the use of the name, almost dropping the bowl in her hands.

"We do not speak his name!" she spoke in a shrill voice, her body shaking in fear and Hope stared.

The kind of response to the use of the name was one that Ragnok had warned her about. The fear for one name, especially the name of one who was long dead was hard for Hope to rationalize, but, then again, Hope hadn't been there during the First Wizarding War, she was just a war orphan that had resulted from it.

"I think I would have preferred to be raised here," Hope said instead, drifting back to their original conversation.

Mindy smiled sadly. "An empty house doesn't make a happy home, Mistress. Mindy can't substitute the love of parents who knew how to care for a child."

A choked noise parted from Hope's lips that was a cross between amused and disgusted. "The love of parents who knew how to care for a child? Is that what you were told I was receiving?"

Big blue eyes blinked in an owlish manner. "Yes," she said, "Mindy was told by Mister Dumbledore that Mistress Lily's sister would care for Mistress as though she was her own."

"Well, that's a load of rubbish," Hope muttered derisively and the house-elf paused in her work. "I spent nine years living in a cupboard under the stairs while my whale of cousin got two rooms all to himself (one for sleep and one for all the used toys he'd outgrown) on a small mattress that I had barely outgrown by the time I left. My family –if you can call them that– found my presence in their life intrusive but they still made me do most of the chores, including cooking, and I always got the smallest portion of the meals I made."

Mindy's eyes dropped and her shoulders fell. When she had come into the bathroom while Hope was bathing to collect her clothes to dry, she had seen the effects of her stay at her mother's sister's house, but she hadn't been able to accept them at the time.

But what other reason could the ten year old daughter of James and Lily Potter have for showing up at the door to Potter Manor with only a trunk and a bag with rain plastering her hair and clothes to her skin than having no place to call home?

And Mindy had seen how small and pale Hope was, lacking in essential nutrients and sunlight.

"I made my first friend one month ago because no one wanted to be friends with 'that Potter girl'," Hope finished, her eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "That place wasn't even remotely close to being a safe environment for a child." She was discounting Dudley, of course, the Dursleys had never had any trouble showering their son with more love than he deserved and saving none for Hope.

So Mindy set aside her bowl and hopped off the stool to walk around the counter on her small spindly legs to hug her charge tightly around the waist and promise her a better life.

It was what Master James and Mistress Lily would have wanted.

* * *

Mindy, Hope learned very early on, was a very intelligent House-elf.

As Hope was the daughter of a Lord, she was subject to several old-fashioned traditions, including learning about the family as far back as it went, a study in at least one language (fluently so Hope's rudimentary French from school didn't count), and knowing how to play at least one instrument were among these, but there were more, a lot more.

Her father, evidently, was a superb violin player, so Hope had chosen that as her instrument, always listening attentively when Mindy taught her patiently, but that was no accounting for skill.

Hope positioned the violin's bow over the strings, attempting to play a more mediocre piece after she'd been practicing for a while, only to wince when the wrong note ruined her cord.

"I'm never going to be able to get this right," she bemoaned to herself, almost dropping the violin to the floor of the ballroom, which served as the practice room since it had the best acoustics.

"Mistress is doing very well," Mindy promised, speaking far kinder than Hope was sure she deserved.

"Maybe I'm just not musically inclined?" Hope suggested instead, staring morosely at the ground, shifting her weight from foot to foot, trying to ignore the outfit she was currently donning.

It was Mindy's idea, to get her used to the kind of dress that Pure-bloods wore, but it was still a bit strange to Hope.

Hope had flushed with colour when Mindy had told her how well the lavender robes suited Hope with her fair complexion and dark hair, but the robes themselves were still a bit odd to her.

Mindy gave her a smile that made her eyes twinkle like sapphires before she checked the time. "We can break for early lunch, if Mistress likes."

"Please!" Hope replaced the violin she'd been practicing for the better part of an hour in its case with the bow resting carefully beside it before she brought the clasp together, shutting the case tightly and making her way in the direction of the dining table.

If it had been a few weeks previously, Hope would have simply flopped down onto the head seat at the table, but Mindy spent hours upon hours reviewing etiquette and manners with her, since they seemed to have escaped her for most of her short life.

So, instead, Hope merely seated herself gracefully.

But that was no accounting for exhaustion, because Hope had never imagined she would have to play an instrument in her life or how hard it would be (television programs made it look so easy…when she'd managed to catch a brief glance).

Mindy placed a hot plate in front of her in a matter of minutes and the pleasant aroma of the herb-spiced chicken and potatoes was more than enough to make Hope forget her problems with her violin lessons.

"What else have I got to do today?" Hope asked swallowing a mouthful of potatoes but Mindy didn't answer, giving her an expectant expression.

"What else do I have to do today?" Hope corrected and Mindy nodded in an approving manner, even as Hope grimaced.

She could speak articulately, well enough to get her point across, but Hope wasn't just Hope Potter the orphan girl who was never without a book in her hand, she was the daughter of Lord James Potter, and how she behaved would reflect back on her family even when she was long dead.

"Greek lessons is at midday, Mistress," Mindy informed her, "and history after that."

"Lovely," Hope said dryly as the house-elf gave a short curtsy and disappeared, leaving her to her meal and a copy of the Daily Prophet, one of the most popular Wizarding newspapers for witches and wizards based in the United Kingdom.

There wasn't all that much to read about, though, and Hope probably could have learned more from a book stolen from her library. There was a big article on the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge (which was a rather odd name for a man, if you asked Hope, but she wasn't one to judge), about a law he was enacting after a string of wild Acromantula attacks occurred in a small Wizarding village, one that would limit where Acromantulas could live and what kind of food they could eat…it seemed as though they'd killed two wizards and… _ate_  them…

Hope couldn't resist a small shudder, but other than that, there seemed to be no other sort of unpleasantness in the paper. There was something about a new development for burns at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and something about a new cauldron failing to pass muster after one potion ate through the bottom to scald the table beneath.

She finished her early lunch and Mindy reappeared to take her used dishes before vanishing again. Hope almost wanted to ask her where she went when she wasn't tending to Hope, but that wasn't really any of Hope's business.

After one last jump of water from her cup, Hope grabbed up her book on the edge of the table,  _Olde Magick of Ancient Egypt_ , humming the notes she'd been playing on her violin within the past hour, her nose stuck in the book as she walked –an art she and Hermione had long since perfected– only to pause when a sudden voice interrupted her thoughts where they were, far from Wales, firmly lodged in Ancient Egypt.

"The Manor does look lovely, I have to admit," a familiar voice mused and Hope jumped wildly, dropping the book to the floor with a loud thud.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest as she looked upon the speaker, more startled than anything else.

Eyes as black as coal watched her and lips twisted upwards into a faint smile. "Hello, dearest," said Thanatos.

"How did you get in here?" Hope couldn't help but blurt (Mindy had yet to hone down Hope's tendency to blurt out what she thought). "There are wards that keep people out."

Thanatos cocked an eyebrow for good measure. "Hope, I'm a god, I can go where I please."

Hope's eyes narrowed and she crouched to grab the book she had dropped on the ground. "Checking up on me?" she guessed, brushing it off with one hand.

"In a manner of speaking," Thanatos agreed, his eyes moving away from her to focus on where they were standing with a bit more interest than Hope had garnered.

"Shouldn't you be off reaping souls or something?" Hope asked him, eyeing his type of dress with curiosity and just a hint of amusement.

It seemed he had taken Hope's comment to heart concerning the toga that he hadn't been wearing when they'd first met.

Now he was wearing one that was black in colour, so long that it brushed across the floor, and Hope could barely see his alabaster toes encased in leather sandals.

"You have a very morbid sense of humour, my dear," Thanatos replied.

"And you are never going to stop calling me that," Hope returned easily.

He smiled and Hope rolled her eyes.

"Mindy," she called and there was a loud crack beside her as the House-elf twisted into existence.

"Mistress Hope?" the House-elf queried, her large eyes fastening on the dark-eyed stranger with intrigue and apprehension.

"It seems we have a guest," Hope continued with an air of amusement, "will you please bring some tea to the drawing room? My…grandfather has stopped by for a visit."

"Of course, Mistress Hope," Mindy bobbed her head, hiding her surprise as she left to comply with her mistress' request.

"Grandfather?" Thanatos said as they walked in the direction of the drawing room. "I didn't know you wished to refer to me so familiarly."

"I get the feeling you will be a rather constant in my life," Hope said with a faux-mournful sigh before choosing her words carefully. "A constant _inconstant_. And since we are technically related by blood, though rather distantly, I should call you something that indicates our relation."

The formal way in which she had spoken was easy to pick up on and even a man such as Thanatos could not miss it. "I see you are reading up on polite speech."

Hope glared.

Polite speech was one way to put it, another was sounding as though you were extremely well educated, which Hope, sadly, was not.

"I'm not that great at it," she said, her words slipping into her usual crass way of speaking. "But I'm still loads better than I was when I first started."

Thanatos hummed something that could have been akin to agreement.

"Shut up and drink your tea," Hope muttered.

"If you insist, dearest."

"I do." Hope smiled through her teeth and it was halfway genuine as god and mortal sipped their tea as though there was nothing more ordinary in the world.

And if Hope managed to convince him to remain for her Greek lessons, she would not admit, though Thanatos, being quite fluent in the ancient language was a prime choice of teacher.

* * *

When Hermione saw her friend again, Hope looked like a completely different person.

Her dark hair was plaited into double French braids and her eyes had a new light to them that made them almost seem lighter in colour, happier.

And she came bearing gifts.

Chocolate chip cookies and a book called  _The Magick of Wicca._

It had the potential to be very interesting, particularly given Hermione's current situation, which her parents had warned Hermione to keep from her best friend, but how could Hermione keep that from Hope?

How could she not tell her that when she wanted a book it sometimes flew into her hands? Or that she had once lit a candle just by looking at it?

"What's your place like?" Hermione asked her as Hope pulled herself up onto her bed, resting her back against the wall as she sat crossed-legged on the mattress.

"Big, really big," Hope replied, smiling. "We have a ballroom."

Brown eyes widened and her mouth gaped. "You're having me on!"

"I'm not," Hope laughed. "I'm being completely serious! There's a ballroom at Potter Manor."

"What could you possibly do with a ballroom?"

"Well, if I ever decide I want to have a ball, I'll know that I have room," Hope responded, a bit unperturbed by the response.

Hermione shook her head wordlessly at her friend.

"You should come by some time," Hope added, "I think Mindy is worried about the lack of contact I'm having with people my age. Apparently, I'm too isolated."

Green eyes rolled for good measure at the very thought.

"She might be right," Hermione giggled.

She had heard a bit about Hope's new caretaker since she had showed up at her house. Mindy had apparently cared for Hope's father before Hope herself, so Hermione figured she was a rather old woman, but the way Hope described her, she seemed a bit younger.

"Isolated," Hope scoffed, "I'm not  _isolated_ , I'm just drowning…do you know how hard it is to learn to play the violin, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione said honestly. "I can play piano decently, though."

Her grandmother had taught her to play; she wasn't great but she did play rather well.

"Well, its bloody difficult is what it is," Hope muttered mutinously. "And then I keep mixing my Greek with French and English and it's a complete mess when Grandfather doesn't come by—"

"You have a grandfather?" Hermione asked in surprise.

The last she's heard, Hope's only living relatives were the Dursleys (who hadn't reported their niece as missing, instead they just claimed they'd taken her out of school, placing her in an in-depth program for delinquent girls, which Hope most certainly was not), she hadn't heard anything about a grandfather.

A grimace marred Hope's lips faintly. "He's a complicated bloke…he doesn't come around a lot, but he's fluent in Greek, and that's usually what I grill him about."

"Why do you even need to learn Greek?" Hermione asked, a bit flummoxed. "It seems a bit difficult to me, like learning Latin."

"Latin's harder than Greek," Hope pointed out before answering her question. "Mindy says its tradition, but I picked the language and the instrument; Greek for Grandfather and violin since my dad played."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, eyes bugging out in surprise, not at Hope's words, but because one of the books on her desk had risen in the air and was now hovering in the air as though waiting for someone to come and snatch it up.

"What?" Hope was quick to notice her interest and began to turn to look and Hermione wished as hard as she possibly could that it would fall back to the desk but then Hope saw it.

Hermione bit hard on her lip, expecting her friend to freak out, because who wouldn't if they saw a book floating in the air, but Hope did not.

"Is that you or me?" she asked instead.

"I– what?" Hermione stuttered, stumbling over her words in the midst of her confusion.

"Probably you then," Hope decided, "I usually know when it's me." Then she brightened even more. "You're a witch!"

Hermione was stung. "That's a mean thing to say!"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," Hope promised, waving her hands and softening her smile. "A witch is someone –more specifically a female– that can use magic, like that." She pointed towards the book that abruptly fell back to the desk. "You must be a Muggle-born, a first-generation witch."

Hermione was being bombarded with so much information that she hardly knew what to do.

"A witch?" she repeated.

Hope nodded. "Don't worry, I'm one too. Mum and Dad were ones before me…Dad's whole family is from magic, all the way back to the tenth century and beyond…but I've only got a family tree that starts at the tenth century, so—"

"Magic?"

It seemed weird to say the word aloud, though Hermione knew it was the only explanation for everything that happened around her.

"Magic," Hope agreed.

"Muggle-born?"

"It means you're born from two non-magical parents," Hope explained, "Muggles. Just like there are Half-bloods, like me, who can have a Pure-blood parent and a Muggle parent or a Pure-blood parent and a Muggle-born parent. And then there are Pure-bloods who had both parents as Pure-bloods."

Hermione just mouthed wordlessly at her, the words seeming to be beyond her.

"How do you know all this?" she finally managed to say.

"I live in an old manor with portraits that move and a House-elf who tells me what to do every day," Hope cocked an eyebrow. "What do you think I've been doing for the past two months? Ignoring the world? Besides, I have a rather large library."

"House-elf?" Hermione asked weakly.

"Mindy!" Hope called and the name was followed by a crack that came so suddenly that Hermione jolted in surprise, eyes widening at the sight of the creature that appeared.

She took one look at the bat-like ears and large eyes and fainted.

"Oh, that's not good," Hope sighed, fanning her friend where she had slumped against the pillows.

Not ten minutes later were Hope and Mindy situated downstairs in the Grangers' sitting room with Hermione roused from her fainting spell.

"Witchcraft?" Mr. Granger seemed to not be as accepting of the idea as his wife. "What Hermione can do is witchcraft?"

"Yes," Hope said, almost saying 'yup' before catching herself ("Mistress should always speak articulately." "No 'yup', then?" "No, Mistress."). "It's not really uncommon, but most kids don't start showing magical abilities until around our age, sometimes earlier if they're lucky."

Hope had been doing a lot of reading since she'd discovered the library at Potter Manor, unfortunately, she hadn't been able to get in a lot of what Mindy called 'recreational studies' which was basically Hope being able to read what she wanted, but that was only after she was done catching up with what Hope referred to as 'Pure-blood studies' (thankfully, she was getting close to the point where she didn't have to spend hours upon hours learning to be a proper heir).

"How did you find out you were a witch?" Mrs. Granger asked Hope. "Your aunt and uncle?"

Hope smirked, arching an eyebrow. "One mention of 'magic' and the Dursleys would have locked me up in the cupboard under the stairs, no, I kind of gathered I was a witch after this."

She pointed towards her head, changing the hair colour to her mother's rich red and her eyes to her father's bright hazel.

Mr. Granger goggled and Mrs. Granger gaped and even Hermione turned her head.

"I didn't know you could do that!" There was a slight hint of an accusation in her voice that made Hope smile.

"It's an inherited skill," Hope said with a shrug, the colours rippling before they returned to their usual hues. "You have to be a part of the Black family, which I am through my grandmother…but that doesn't really matter…"

Her eyes flitted towards the creature that Hope had explained to be a House-elf and she bobbed her head, making her ears flap.

"Magical children generally start their education around the age of eleven," Hope explained, sounding very formal and informative for a ten year old. "So you just get a year to adapt to the idea of Hermione being more than ordinary."

It had always been rather simple to Hope, but then she hadn't had family that cared about her well-being having to deal with the fact that she was so very different from them.

Hope had always been a bit different from the Dursleys, more so than they had ever been willing to accept, and that had been fine with Hope; she had never trusted them to begin with either.

But it had always been plain to Hope just how much her parents loved her, so Hope sighed and tried to explain it better.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Two weeks later, Hope's prediction of a school official showing up at Hermione's house on her birthday, September 19 came true.

" _They'll probably show up in person for you, since you're Muggle-born," Hope had said, sifting through the pages of a book she'd been carrying around in her bag_ , Hogwarts, A History _, before finding the right page and extending it to Hermione. "Right there. Everyone else is just sent an owl with their letter since they've got at least one parent with magic."_

The woman at the door was unlike anything Hermione had ever seen, and she stood out like a sore thumb.

Her dark hair was streaked with silver and held up in a high bun that disappeared under the emerald green witch's hat that was perched on the crown of her head, the point cocked to one side, and she wore long robes nearly the same colour as her hat.

The woman had barely entered when Hermione made her way down the stairs to see who it was.

"Are you the woman from the school?" she asked her animatedly before the woman had a chance to speak.

"Hermione!" Her father reproached, but her words seemed to have amused the woman, whose thin lips had twisted upwards slightly.

"I am Professor McGonagall," she said diplomatically, "you must be Hermione Granger."

The busy-haired girl nodded her head, taking the letter that was extended towards her bearing her name and address and sealed with wax that had a crest stamped into it.

"I was under the impression I would be informing a Muggle-born witch about magic that she might not understand," Professor McGonagall continued, arching one eyebrow. "But I seem to be mistaken."

"I'm afraid you're off by about two weeks," Mrs. Granger said wryly, "we've had a rather vague explanation by a ten year old girl."

That surprised the professor. "A ten year old girl?"

"Hope," Hermione supplied, "my best friend."

There was an oddly calculating glint present in the older witch's eyes, combined with startled surprise and apprehension. "Hope…Potter?"

Mr. Granger's thick eyebrows rose high on his forehead. "You're familiar with her?"

"I–I taught Miss Potter's parents," Professor McGonagall conceded and Mrs. Granger couldn't have missed the deep sorrow in her eyes; it was clear that she'd known Hope's parents well. "How is she? I haven't seen her since she was a little girl."

"She ran away," Hermione supplied helpfully, tucking the letter into the book she was carrying. "She's living at a manor with her caretaker now."

That had been very far from what Professor McGonagall had been expecting, but she had known all along that the Dursleys were not a suitable family to raise the Girl-Who-Lived.

The headmaster would want to know right away.

* * *

"How did you convince your parents to let you come with me?"

Hermione smiled widely, keeping their fingers locked as they walked down the cobbled street of the road called Diagon Alley with her school supply list tucked into her pocket.

Unfortunately, she had been born too late in the year to start magical schooling, so she'd have to wait until the next term, but Hermione wasn't too miffed (she could read an awful lot of books about magic before school started).

"It's not like they haven't let me go off on my own before," she said, "besides, Mindy counts as a chaperone."

"Yes, Miss Hermione," piped up the voice beside them.

Mindy's servile attitude rubbed Hermione the wrong way, but the way Hope and Mindy talked put her to ease. Sometimes it was like the House-elf was lecturing Hope and other times it was a very gentle way in which she spoke to Hope, like a caretaker would…but Hermione was still going to find some books to research House-elves.

"What's on the list?" Hope asked her, being the one who wouldn't receive her school list until the next summer when she turned eleven. Hermione's parents had agreed for her to go ahead and buy her schoolbooks (because what harm could books do?), but to wait on everything else.

Hermione folded the piece of parchment back to read the contents:

" _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble"_

Hope took the list from her, scrutinizing it closely. "I haven't read any of these," she decided.

"I thought Mindy was teaching you history?" Hermione asked in confusion, looking around for the knee-high House-elf who seemed to have vanished.

"Pure-blood history isn't Wizarding history," Hope corrected as they stepped into Flourish and Blotts. "Pure-blood history mostly concerns how much Pure-bloods do for society, and how much they get away with."

"Get away with?" Hermione inquired, thumbing a few worn spines of books with interest, not noticing the footsteps that had followed them around the aisle, nor the blue eyes watching them with interest.

"She's talking about the Death Eater trials."

Hope and Hermione looked up to see the one who had interrupted them. She was their age, wearing robes that suited her, with golden hair woven into a tight French braid.

"The Death Eater trials?" Hermione repeated the words unfamiliarly.

The girl smiled. "I take it you're a Muggle-born?"

Hermione felt like she was being insulted and Hope frowned beside her.

"I'm not trying to be mean," she assured them quickly, guessing from their faces what they were thinking, "it just makes sense that you wouldn't know about them if you only found out you have magic recently."

Hope relaxed and Hermione gave an apologetic grin.

"Death Eater trials?" Hope replied, arching an eyebrow. "That would imply there were people convicted, but many Death Eaters were from old families with old money, and they had more than enough to keep themselves out of jail."

The girl smirked. "You're not wrong." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "I'm Daphne Greengrass, by the way."

"Hope Potter," Hope said before nodding to her friend, "and this is Hermione Granger."

The surprise on Daphne's face was clear in the light of the bookstore. "Hope Potter? Heir Potter and Girl-Who-Lived?"

"Heir Potter, yes," Hope said, her brow crinkling in confusion, "but I don't know anything about 'the Girl-Who-Lived'."

And she wasn't lying. She hardly communicated with the Wizarding world, she was very isolated at Potter Manor, but she liked it better that way, and when she ventured out, it was usually to visit Hermione. She had never heard the name the public had given her after Voldemort's fall.

"Really?" Daphne asked a bit bemused.

"You wouldn't happen to be Heir Greengrass?" Hope asked instead as Hermione watched their exchange with interest. "The eldest of the Greengrass children?"

"I suppose you looked me up in the Pure-blood Registry?"

"My caretaker required me to know about the present Noble Families that aren't yet extinct upon the male line," Hope said simply before tilting her head towards Hermione. "Where were we? Death Eater trials?" It had completely slipped her mind.

"Around there," Hermione giggled.

"Well, Death Eaters were the followers of a Dark wizard named Voldemort," Hope explained, pulling out a book form the shelf that was on Hermione's list, "they were the ones that caused the most chaos in the First Wizarding War, but after their master was killed, most went back saying they hadn't meant to do any of it, that they were under the Imperius Curse."

"Imperius Curse?" Hermione prodded.

"It's a Dark curse," Daphne explained, "it forces you to do that caster's bidding."

The colour leeched from Hermione's cheeks at the thought of not being in control of her actions. "That sounds  _awful."_

"It does, doesn't it?" Hope asked. "I suppose, it would have been, if they all weren't lying."

"You seem pretty sure of that," Hermione said, nudging her friend's shoulder.

"There are Pure-bloods that ally with the Light, like the Potters," Hope gestured to herself, but she didn't look too pleased by the assessment, as though it didn't properly suit her. "Then there are the neutral grey families like the Greengrasses." A small smile broke across Daphne's face at those words, but Hermione couldn't be sure of why. "And then there are those who have always allied with the Dark…take a guess which grouping claimed to be innocent."

"The Dark-allied families," Hermione surmised.

"Right in one," Hope agreed before scrutinizing Daphne. "What House are you hoping to get into?"

Her golden plait moved behind her as she tilted her head thoughtfully, considering the question seriously. "Slytherin," she decided. "What about you?"

"I have no idea," Hermione said honestly.

She'd read about how Hogwarts Sorted its students into four different Houses based on character traits, cunning and ambition for Slytherin, loyalty and trust for Hufflepuff, cleverness and intelligence for Ravenclaw, and bravery and courage for Gryffindor.

It honestly seemed like you couldn't go wrong in any of them.

"I think it would be a shame," Hope mused, "if Salazar Slytherin's own granddaughter wasn't suited for his House."

The gob-smacked expression on Daphne's face was one to remember.

"You wouldn't want to grab lunch with us after we get the last on Hermione's books?" Hope asked her.

Daphne had never been invited to lunch before, and never by two people whom she felt she could have an honest, intelligent conversation with.

"I'd be delighted," she said.

* * *

Daphne Greengrass had been expecting something a bit different than what she'd been greeted with when she'd been hanging around in Flourish and Blotts, looking for a good book to occupy her interests, and it was clear that she'd gotten more than she had bargained for.

People had been telling stories about Hope Potter, the famous Girl-Who-Lived, the one who had conquered the Dark Lord when she was only one year old, for as long as Daphne could remember.

The scar on her forehead from where the  _Avada Kedavra_  must have hit her was for the most part hidden under the thick fringe over her forehead and her eyes were a green that went past viridian right to emerald.

The way she walked, with precise movements that only came from taking lessons over and over until you got it right, screamed Pure-blood (not that there was anything wrong with being a Half-blood, because Daphne could count a few Heirs and Lords who were the same) and there were calluses on her fingers from practicing what Daphne was certain was a string instrument.

If not for her clearly Muggle garb, she would have looked for all intents and purposes as though she was a Pure-blood Princess (a term that Daphne abhorred no matter how many times it was applied to herself).

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was something else entirely. She came from a Muggle family and her parents were Dentists (Daphne still had no idea what that meant).

She was very nice but treated Daphne with apprehension and the blonde gathered that Hope was her first friend, one she wasn't keen on losing, and Daphne could admire that.

Once they'd gotten around all the walls Hermione and Hope had set up around themselves (and Daphne couldn't fault them; she had her own walls after years of getting grief for being a female firstborn), they had a rather enjoyable meal.

"You should come to Potter Manor," Hope said with a smile after they'd finished their fish and chips in the Leaky Cauldron, "you and Hermione."

"If I can convince Dad to drive me four hours," Hermione laughed.

"Or I could just have Mindy pick you up," Hope pointed out with a grin herself.

"I don't think my parents will mind too badly," Daphne added herself, her fingers tapping against the half-empty glass of water.

A House-elf made a sudden appearance beside them, but her presence only seemed to jar Hermione and Daphne, as Hope was becoming far too accustomed to her disappearing and reappearing in the blink of an eye.

"Mistress, it is time to leave," Mindy told Hope who leaned back in her seat before sighing.

"Right, I've got to get Hermione back to her Mum and Dad's before curfew," she said, winking at Daphne for good measure.

It was the middle of the day; even if Hermione had a curfew, it would have certainly been night.

"I don't have a curfew!" Hermione replied before flushing when Hope gave her a direct look.

"Really? Are you sure?"

Brown eyes were confused for a very brief moment, and then she swatted her friend's arm and glared at her as the green-eyed girl grinned widely.

"Almost got you, didn't I?"

"You did not!"

"I did and you know it!" Hope crowed, her voice expertly hidden in the chaotic noise of the lunchtime patrons.

Hermione groaned and Daphne released a small laugh.

"See you around, Daphne," Hermione added as they scooted out of the booth. "I'll look into that thing—"

Hope gave an exaggerated bow before whisking her friend away, leaving Daphne on her own, just as her mother reappeared.

"Who was that, dear?" she asked her with a soft smile.

"I've been invited to tea at Potter Manor, Mother," Daphne told her with a disarming smile and her mother, a woman famous for her ability to not show how she felt on her face (or an extremely good poker face might be a better way to put it), couldn't hide her astonishment at the words.

She couldn't wait to see her father's face when she told him the same thing.

* * *

Hope didn't sleep well that night, plagued by nightmares that refused to cease, ones that included high-pitched laughter and flashes of green light.

She awoke in the early morning in a cold sweat, shaking more than she could ever remember doing.

When she was small –smaller, she mentally amended– she had learned not to make much noise when she awoke from her nightmares, mostly because the Dursleys didn't take kindly to their niece waking them up in the middle of the night.

But Hope had always thought that she might grow out of them someday, but the nightmares waxed and waned just as the moon in the sky did. Most nights she'd be able to sleep peacefully, but that nightmare never really left her.

Hope could only lay awake, listening to the thud of her own heart and her own blood rushing in her ears, waiting for her racing heart to calm so that she could fall back to sleep once more.

So Hope closed her eyes and dreamed of the starry sky instead.

* * *

Greens looked the best on Hope, no matter what Mindy said, greens and black, that much Hope knew and she insisted her wardrobe reflect her decision.

The look Mindy gave her when she was being measured in Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions (or simply known as Madam Malkin, for the woman who owned it).

"Mistress is being irrational," the House-elf insisted, "Mistress will drown in dark colours."

"Your House-elf is right," the Madam told her with a half-smile as Hope scowled further, "maybe you should add a few lighter colours to your choices? That way you have the darker colours you like and a few different ones for days you might spend in the sunlight."

Hope considered it and Mindy held her breath. Black was rather sun-absorbent, so maybe it would be a good idea to get some clothes that lighter and suited for nicer weather.

It had been lovely out in Wales for the past few days. Hope could see the lavender in the potted plants by the doors a more vibrant purple than they had been when it was raining and foggy.

"Alright, fine," she conceded and Mindy thanked the gods for their intervention. "But only a few!"

"Of course," Madam Malkin smiled kindly.

And if she caught sight of Hope's scar as she ran her hand through her hair, she did not mention it.

Hope still thought that Wizarding fashion was a bit strange and for the most part she wore Muggle-styled clothing; jeans that fit her and actually didn't have holes and shirts that weren't so baggy that they had to be bunched up with a hair tie.

Robes were ridiculous, if you asked her, though she was sure she would be forced to wear them in public at one point, so, she would have to get used to them.

But Hope really didn't want to do that.

Hope wanted to go home and stumble over her Greek and read her books (now that she had finished her 'Pure-blood studies', for the most part) and practice her violin for hours (which was not because she wanted to but because she wanted to get it finished with quickly; however violin playing was not as easy as it sounded). Hope wanted to Thanatos to visit again, even if it was to give lectures on how bad certain magicks were and Hope wanted to finish exploring the wide expanse that belonged to the Potter family.

Hope did not want to be stuck in a robe-fitting room for robes she didn't want, but she still did what Mindy requested, because Mindy was the one that taught her how to survive in a world of Pure-blood society, because Mindy was the reason Hope could live the life she'd always wished for but had never allowed herself to dream of.

"There," Madam Malkin said, sticking in the last pin and smiling at her, "you're done! The robes should be ready in a few weeks. An owl will be sent to let you know when you can come and pick them up."

" _Thank Zeus!"_  Hope muttered in an exaggerated manner before removing herself gingerly from the robes.

"I'm going to Flourish and Blotts, Mindy, grab me when you're done!" Hope called over her shoulder as she made a hasty exit, almost running into someone on her way out before weaving around them.

Remus Lupin had not been anticipating on coming back to London, but he wasn't doing very well money-wise and his last job hadn't ended very well.

Life as a werewolf had never been easy, but Remus wished he could hold a job for more than a few months, though his medical condition made that nearly impossible.

James and Lily had left him some money to help him look after himself in their will, but Remus refused to touch it, no matter if it would solve his money problems.

That was there money and it wouldn't feel right of him to take it, even though his friends were long dead.

The small bell on Madam Malkin's dinged beside him and a small figure made an exit, a very familiar small figure that Remus would have recognized anywhere.

He'd lost count just how many times James had summoned the Potter family House-elf with one request after the other, and as they'd gotten older, the requests had gotten stranger, though her expression had only gotten more and more bemused.

"Mindy?" he asked cautiously, in case it wasn't the House-elf he was thinking of, because why would the Potter family House-elf by out on her own when the last of the Potter line was safe at her aunt's?

"Mister Remus!" Mindy squeaked. "Mindy did not see you!"

She patted his leg kindly and Remus' smile softened; he'd always had a soft spot for Mindy.

"How are you, Mindy?" he asked her.

"Mindy is well, Mister Remus," Mindy said, before correcting herself, "Mindy will be well once she gets Mistress home for lunch."

"Mistress?" Remus said, the word rolling off his tongue strangely.

The last Mistress Potter had been Dorea Black-Potter, James' mother and he couldn't imagine Mindy switching families before the last member was dead (and that idea gave him a feeling akin to swallowing a lump of coal).

"Mistress Hope," Mindy agreed and Remus' heart jolted in his chest as she nodded towards the bookstore where a girl was exiting, apparently enthralled with the book she had just bought.

She was small, the appropriate size for a ten year old, with long dark curls obscuring her face before she looked up and Remus would have known those green eyes anywhere.

"Mindy, look at what I found!" Hope walked right past him to show Mindy the book. "Celtic mythology and how it ties into runes!"

"It sounds like a good book for Mistress," Mindy agreed, smiling up at the girl before she gave her knee a small pat. "Mindy would like to introduce Mistress to someone."

Hope's eyes shifted to the man standing beside her with green eyes much paler than her own and brown hair streaked with grey. His robes hung off his thin frame, reminding her of how she had been when she'd first arrived at Potter Manor.

"This is Remus Lupin, a friend of Master James."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Remus and Hope have officially met, and so have Hope, Hermione, and Daphne…I'll do a bit more of their interactions in the next chapter.
> 
> There's a hint of the beginnings of SPEW (though it might have a new name), but Mindy is a much better off House-elf than the ones that were first introduced in Harry Potter.
> 
> Hope being a dork about Ancient Runes is what I live for.
> 
> I hope I did Mindy's speech patterns correctly; I did write her to be a more intelligent House-elf than average.


	3. Secrets Bathed in Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess you were all excited about Remus' appearance in the last chapter ;)
> 
> Ages for the girls, since the question was posed: Hermione just turned eleven, and Daphne and Hope are still ten; they won't be going to Hogwarts until next year.
> 
> Ron won't be as close if Hope as he was in Looking Beyond, but I think they'll at least be friendly to a certain point.
> 
> I'm not sure if I'll be glossing the year over, or if I'll be doing in depth, but I feel like this fic might be in depth.

Albus Dumbledore was a very careful man, that much could be said, frighteningly careful, to a fault. And it was that cautious nature that had caused him to make many decisions that he found no fault in, but he would soon discover that others did.

He had been there to hear the prophecy Sybill Trelawney had given concerning Hope Potter and Lord Voldemort (because it could have been no one else, other than the daughter of James and Lily Potter, as the only other child who had the potential to be the Chosen One was a boy when the prophecy had clearly called for a girl) and it had been his choice to dispatch Hagrid to gather Hope from the wreckage of her parents home after their death, and his choice to have her left at her aunt's house, regardless of what the Potters' will called for.

It was imperative that Hope be raised by her aunt, even if it wasn't the best environment for her, there was a need that he would never divulge as to why she was to be raised in the Muggle World.

And Albus Dumbledore choked on his sherbet lemon when Professor McGonagall told him Hope was not there.

He coughed profusely before managing to clear his clogged throat.

"I beg your pardon?" he finally managed to say.

"Hope Potter is no longer living at Number Four, Privet Drive," Professor McGonagall informed him. "She was friends with one of the Muggle-borns that will be joining Hogwarts next fall and she said that Hope ran away."

"Ran away?" Dumbledore asked bleakly.

"I went and investigated the house while the Dursleys were out," Professor McGonagall continued as though she had not been interrupted. "There are no indications that anyone else has been living in that house aside from the Dursleys."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"There was a cupboard under the stairs," Professor McGonagall continued mulishly, "that held a foreign scent, but it was more than a month old."

She had been investigating in her Animagus form, after all, and her nose was highly sensitive.

_Oh, this was not good, this was very not good._

But the delicate silver instruments that rested on the table gave no indication that she was unwell; the one that indicated her health was still released occasional puffs of white smoke at eleven o'clock every day for a few short seconds, and there was no indication that the wards had been tampered with.

How was this possible?

"She must be found," he said, before adding, "discreetly…I have contacts in the Auror Office."

"Aurors won't be good for keeping it quiet," Professor McGonagall disagreed, but he paid her no heed, he had much to think about.

* * *

The flames flickered ominously in the fireplace, casting a soft glow upon the two figures seated in Potter Manor's drawing room.

Hope sat with a straight back, her tea still in its cup, resting on the cushion beside her as she looked over the man sitting at the opposite side of the couch she was perched on.

She was not what Remus had been expecting, in fact, she reminded him just a little of Andromeda Black before she had met Ted Tonks.

Hope spoke carefully and moved precisely, something that could have only come from practice, and her eyes were far too cautious, as though she didn't yet know whether to believe that he was her father's friend.

The only sign of her unease was how she was twisting her fingers in her lap.

"How well did you know my father?" she asked him, finally lifting the cup of tea to her lips for a sip. If the contents had gone cold, Hope gave no indication.

"We became friends when we were eleven," Remus told her, smiling fondly at the memory of brighter times. "Our little group called ourselves the Marauders and I was called Moony."

Confusion marred Hope's face as her eyebrows drew together and she listened intently. Moony sounded like an odd name, if you asked her, but she knew better than to judge.

"I was there for your parents' wedding," he added, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand, "and when you were born—"

Her frown deepened and she cut across him quickly. "If you were such good friends with my father then why didn't you raise me?"

Remus expelled an audible sigh, sagging under the words directed towards himself. "I wanted to," he admitted, recalling the day he had beseeched Dumbledore, but his old headmaster had adamantly refused, stating Hope was already in a safe and loving environment, "but I was told you were better off where you were."

Hope clenched her teeth behind her lips. "Better off?" she couldn't help but scoff. "According to who?"

Pale green eyes widened in the manner that she had spoken in. "Professor Dumbledore."

Hope's smile was cold and unfeeling. "Of course," she said, "it always does come down to this 'Dumbledore' bloke."

"Mistress," Mindy reproached the small girl as she stepped forward to add more tea to Hope's empty cup.

Hope waved her concerns off.

"Safe? Maybe, if what Grandfather said about the wards was accurate," Hope conceded, taking a small sip of the tea while it was hot. "Loving, very far from."

The disdain in her voice could not have been made plainer.

"I didn't know my own birthday until I had a school physical when I was seven," Hope told him. "I have never celebrated it, or, I should say my former guardians never celebrated my birthday…but their son's birthday was a bit  _over-celebrated."_

If she had looked up, she would have seen the horror on his face –little Hope, James and Lily's Hope, not knowing what her birthday was until she was seven– as bile rose up inside him.

"I always got less of everything," Hope seemed unconcerned, but Remus could see Mindy's grip tightening over the tea kettle. "Mindy," she appealed to her and the House-elf quickly arranged a smile on her face for her young mistress that made Remus' own lips twist upwards, "could you please bring me my parents' will?"

"Yes, Mistress," Mindy said, bowing simply to her as she placed the tea kettle on the tray on the side table before disappearing.

"I wish I could have taken you in," Remus said after a moment of silence, "but I am not a good person to be around, Hope." Particularly not on full moons.

"You don't seem like a bad person," Hope countered, scowling at him in a way that was more adorable than anything else, mostly because her lower lip jutted out in a pout, which ruined the effect she was trying to have.

"It's not that…kind of problem," Remus said with a bit of difficulty when Mindy returned with a thick roll of parchment.

Hope took it, reading a section aloud.  _"If we both die and leave behind our surviving daughter, we appoint as the guardians of the person and property of our daughter her godfather Sirius Black and godmother Alice Longbottom. They shall have custody of our daughter. If, due to extenuating circumstances, they cannot fulfill this obligation, it will fall to Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew to care for our daughter in their stead."_

Remus' hands were shaking and he swallowed thickly, blinking furiously as he looked down at the will she had handed him. If only things had been different…if only they'd found Sirius out from the start…

"I don't see a mention of the Dursleys, do you?" she asked him.

"No, I don't," he said finally, giving her a slight smile and she gave one of her own and it very much suited her face and Remus found he preferred the smile than the thin-lipped expression she had attempted to wear before.

"Will you be staying for lunch?" Hope asked him. "Mindy makes a mean Sheppard's Pie."

"I –I can recall," Remus said, blinking as Hope stood smoothly.

"Good," Hope said, grinning now as she extended her hand towards him. "Maybe we should start over? Hi, I'm Hope; you know a lot about my parents and I know very little…maybe you want to stay for awhile and tell me stories?"

Hope had never had stories she liked or indeed anyone to tell them to her, and she'd always lost interest in fairytales where the princes and the knights were the heroes.

Remus released a small huff of a laugh. "I'd be happy to," he promised as he took her hand and the blinding smile matched Lily's proportions far more than he'd anticipated.

* * *

Dumbledore could find no trace of her; it was as if she never existed in the first place. It was almost unnerving how she'd managed to disappear so effortlessly.

And he couldn't think of where she could be.

In the deepest darkest parts of his mind he considered the possibility of Death Eaters that had renounced Voldemort grabbing her off the streets.

But he remembered what Minerva had said about Hope's friend, the Muggle-born girl, that she had told her that Hope had run away.

However, even if that was the case, he should have still been able to track her with magic, unless she was somewhere that was untraceable and undetectable to outside influences.

And it was best if very few people knew that the Girl-Who-Lived had been misplaced.

* * *

Remus stayed for lunch, and for dinner, and then he stayed the night.

And he couldn't remember a night he'd slept so well since his friends' deaths from all those years ago.

Hope was a very clever child and most less stoic and quiet once they began conversing in earnest.

It was hard to see who she was more like: James or Lily.

And she had somehow managed to convince him to stay at Potter Manor with a few choice words and batting her big green eyes.

"I pity the lad you ever bring home," he told her on the fourth night since he had decided to stay as what Hope called being her 'minder'.

"Why's that?" Hope asked, her eyes glittering as they turned hazel just briefly (and Remus had nearly forgotten that Hope was a Metamorphmagus, as she wasn't one for changing her appearance very much).

"Because you'll be able to charm them with very few words," he replied simply and Hope's grin widened.

"It's an acquired skill, or so I'm told," she preened under the compliment. "I work hard at it."

Remus coughed, choking on the gulp of pumpkin juice as he snorted and Hope hid her own giggles in her mouthful of soup.

"But you are going to stay, aren't you?" Hope beseeched him, bringing him back to the start of their discussion.

The full moon was getting closer as his time with Hope wore on and he wasn't sure how his friend's daughter was going to react to the idea of her guest as a monster to be feared.

But at the same time he was absolutely certain that James would prefer that one of his friends care for his child rather than a House-elf (nothing against Mindy, but there were some things that she just couldn't do).

"Mindy says you got good marks on your OWLs and NEWTs," Hope added, "you could be my tutor!...On top of, you know, being my minder…" She gave a sheepish smile.

"Yes," Remus said, "I'll stay."

" _Yes!"_  Hope pumped her fist into the air ecstatically.

* * *

The day of the full moon was the worst that Remus had felt in awhile and he couldn't walk without the aid of his cane, and it was also the day that Hope decided she was going to walk around the Potter lands, after spending day after day inside (and it was something Mindy heartily approved of). Of course, Remus didn't have to join her, but exploring was so much better when there was someone to share in the discovery.

"Hermione wants to come over," Hope confided in him, taking his hand as they travelled into the sparse trees to cross over a small stream by walking across a branch that had fallen some time ago. "And so does Daphne, but she's not as obvious with her hinting…I said I'd check with you first, so…?"

"It's your house, I'm just a—" Remus started to say as he stumbled off the log after her before she stopped short to give him a flat stare.

"If you say a guest, I will hex you," she promised, jabbing him in the chest with her finger.

"You don't know any hexes," Remus said after a moment of deliberation, because he'd seen Lily Evans in action and her hexes were vicious; he prayed Hope had a few more years at least before she was as good as her mother.

"I will find one and use it on you," Hope warned, taking a few steps towards an overgrown path.

Remus' smile strained the muscles of his face. "Go, invite your friends; I'm sure the manor could use some livening up."

"So Mindy says," Hope muttered under her breath. "And you haven't met Grandfather yet…but he usually drops by unannounced…"

Remus had heard about Hope's elusive grandfather from Mindy, but even the House-elf was cautious about the man; Remus doubted they were actually related because both of Hope's grandfathers were dead.

"Sounds like a charming fellow."

"Try not to be surprised when you see him," Hope added, ignoring his comment.

"Surprised, why?" Remus couldn't imagine what would surprise him, after all, he was used to stares himself, mostly to do with the scars that lined his face. Someone similar wouldn't earn such a look from him.

"Imagine an ancient Greek statue only alive," Hope suggested, gesticulating wildly. "Like Pygmalion!"

"Pygmalion?" Remus was not as knowledgeable in Greek myths as his pseudo-niece.

"He was this Greek sculptor who fell in love with the woman he'd sculpted," Hope said, waving a hand carelessly, "she was apparently very beautiful."

"And you're saying that your grandfather is very beautiful?" Remus asked, faintly amused by the assumption.

"Well, of course," Hope replied as though any other assessment would have been inaccurate. "He's _Thanatos_ , of  _course_  he's beautiful…it's almost unfair how pretty he is…but I guess you can't always win."

Thanatos was an odd name, to be sure. Naming children after ancient gods wasn't a common practice, even amongst wizards.

"Your grandfather is named after a death god?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hope scoffed, "his is the death god himself."

Remus gave her a look that said he didn't believe her for a second, but he didn't press the issue as they drifted to another topic.

"So, it was love at first sight for Dad?" she asked.

It had slipped her mind to release her grip on Remus' hand once they'd crossed the stream, but Remus didn't bother to remind her; it was something Lily would have done.

"Yes, for James it was, but your mother despised him," Remus said with a bit of fondness.

"Why?" Hope tugged on his arm incrementally as they passed by a short but deep ravine as if she thought Remus with his limp and cane was going to fall over the edge (Remus was far more worried of the same for Hope).

"James had a certain level of…arrogance when he was younger," Remus told her, "he was a very stanch Gryffindor and he could be a bit of a bully."

"Oh," Hope said with a bit of disappointment. She had never liked bullies, being the one that bullies often picked on.

"Lily was friends with a boy in Slytherin named Severus Snape," Remus continued, "and he and James never saw eye to eye. James was a Pure-blood who hated the idea of blood purity and Severus was the type to hang out with Blood Purists, shall we say? It was the thing that eventually broke Lily and Severus' friendship."

"Why?" Hope asked again.

"Well, Severus called Lily something she couldn't forgive," Remus said, grimacing slightly as he recalled the memory of the day in question. "He called her a Mudblood, which is a cruel thing to call someone who is Muggle-born. It means dirty blood or common blood, and it's very offensive."

Hope frowned, thinking of Hermione who had been made fun of for her teeth and smarts at Muggle school and imagining what it would be like if she went to Hogwarts only to face more discrimination.

"Your father grew up after awhile and somehow he managed to charm Lily onto a date and they hit it off after that."

Remus' leg was beginning to irritate but he tried not to let it show even as Hope took a sudden sharp turn, taking them back in the direction they had come in.

Hope was silent for a long time, her thoughts swirling in her mind.

"What about you?" she asked him finally.

"What about me?" he asked in surprise as they crossed over the stream once more.

"How did you feel about my mother?"

Remus gathered she meant "What was your relationship like with my mother?" and not "Did you have a crush on my mother?"

"Lily and I always got on rather well," Remus said with a soft smile. "I was the most studious of James' friends and she always said she preferred me best before she decided to date James, and he was always jealous of the time we spent together, studying."

James had had his flaws, but there were many good things about James and Remus was going to make sure that Hope knew both sides before she went to Hogwarts, because as far as he could remember, Severus Snape still taught and he still held a deep grudge for James.

* * *

The moon was clear and bright as it filtered in through Hope's window onto the bed where she was sitting, reading a book on Rune Analysis by candlelight and the light of an Aetherstone that rested in a leather pouch around her neck, illuminating the pages before her.

Since Hope was Heir Potter and Potter Manor belonged to her, the master bedroom was the one she slept in at night. This meant that she had a bigger bed, bedroom, and bathroom than the other rooms in the house. But there also wasn't all that much in the room that Hope had personalized.

There was an unmoving Muggle photograph of Hope and Hermione outside the library where they'd first met, each holding a book in their arms as they smiled widely, and it was resting against the vase full of lavender on the mahogany desk beside a framed picture that Remus had given her of her parents on their wedding day (the one she'd found in her mother's trunk was still where it was).

But there wasn't a lot to the room.

And Hope was in need of another book.

She pulled back the covers of the bed in time to hear a howl of a wolf outside the manor and then she froze.

There weren't…wolves out there, were there?

Hope pulled herself out of bed, wrapping her robe around herself quickly and grasping the candleholder, wrenching the door open and walking quickly down the hall before descending the stairs in time to see a flash of fur close to the window in the drawing room, complete with flashing amber eyes and a howl.

A startled cry left Hope as the creature was forced back by a pulsating shine of blue and she clutched the candleholder even tighter as she peered closer as it ran off, though the blue sheen around the manor remained, like the manor was trapped inside a blue snow globe.

"What  _the—?"_

" _Mistress!_  You should be in bed!"

Hope jumped wildly, nearly dropping the candleholder on Mindy, only managing to keep her grip by sheer willpower. "Mindy! What is that?"

"What is what, Mistress?" Mindy asked, though her voice came off just a touch too high-pitched to be a truthful voice. "Mindy sees nothing."

"Mindy…" Hope warned. She didn't make orders that much of Mindy, more often than not what she made were requests that started with please and ended in thank you, but she would make an order if she had to.

Mindy's shoulders sagged slightly. "Mister Remus."

"Remus? What's Remus got to do with it?" Hope blurted.

If it was another time, Mindy would have waited for her to correct her speech pattern, but now was not the time for that.

"Mister Remus is the werewolf," Mindy said with a bit of a grimace, gesturing out the window towards the creature ripping across the wide glen.

Hope balked, looking out the window and then back to her in a bit of disbelief. "A  _werewolf?"_

Sure, she'd heard stories about werewolves, but they were stories told to scare children, about mindless monsters that went from men to monsters with the waning of the moon, monsters that could only be killed by a bullet made of silver.

Magical creatures hadn't been the focus of any of the lessons that Mindy had given her.

She looked out towards the glen again, listening to the howl that sounded more pained than anything else Hope had heard.

The gears in her mind were turning rapidly as her thoughts raced.

"I'll…be in the library," she said finally, her voice a little distant and Mindy gave her a small curtsy before she went to prowl through the stacks, and Potter Manor had a large library filled with so many books. Thankfully they were organized by subject, so Hope merely had to find the section that concerned magical creatures.

She set down her candleholder with a loud thunk, the Aetherstone around her neck swinging wildly from the movement as she pulled free the Magical Creature Registry from the shelf and thumbed it open to the right page.

_Werewolf is the term given to those infected with the incurable lycanthropy disease. Werewolves are humans that, upon a full moon, become a near-wolf with strength and healing superior by far to that of humans. The werewolf has no choice in whether to transform or not, the lycanthropy infection bars this from them, and once they transform, they will have no ability to tell the difference from friend or foe, though they will be able to recall everything once their mind is sound once more._

_Werewolves, though considered a near-wolf when compared to a wolf, have several distinct differences from ordinary wolves, such as: they have shorter snouts, more human-like eyes which turn amber during the transformation regardless of the color they were before, a tufted tail, and their mindless hunting of humans when in their wolf-form._

_Lycanthropy is a magical illness spread through the werewolf's saliva and blood, however it can affect Muggles, though most die soon after being bitten. And if a human is bit by a werewolf on a day other than the full moon, they do not become a werewolf, only gaining lupine tendencies. But any bite or scratch by a werewolf will leave permanent scars on the one attacked by these creatures._

_There is no cure to lycanthropy and werewolves, once infected, must live with the infection for all their life._

Hope took the book and another and dropped them at the desk, reading over the words concerning werewolves well into the early morning.

* * *

By the morning, sometime around eight o'clock, Hope knew from a glance to the grandfather clock that resided in the library, Remus had still not returned.

Hope hadn't slept a wink that night, the howling wasn't so intrusive that it kept her awake, but she had spent the early morning looking up anything and everything concerning werewolves and lycanthropy.

She might have considered herself an expert on the subject by the time the sun came up, but that mattered little.

A jacket was thrown over her shoulders and boots on her feet as she braved the morning chill in her pyjamas.

Hope almost sprained her ankle when she lodged it in a hole made by stones ripped from the ground.

There were signs of where Remus had been with claw-marks tilling the earth and Hope followed the gashes in the ground that was peppered with several dots of crimson.

Maybe he had run into a tree and gotten himself cut? Even as Hope considered it, it seemed unlikely. According to the books she had read in the early morning, werewolves were very strong and it didn't seem as though they bruised or cut easily…unless they were bruising and cutting themselves.

Hope wondered if the scars on his face were from himself or the werewolf who had made him into what he was.

Twigs snapped underneath her feet as she walked, moving carefully over the broken half of an oak tree that appeared to have been crudely snapped in the night before sloshing through the mud that accumulated once the rain had picked up.

Brown stained her boots and the pant-legs of her pyjamas as she picked her way through the glen.

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting to find when she stepped out of the manor. Maybe she'd been thinking that Remus would be easier to find, but that was not the case.

Hope half-expected Remus to come stumbling out of the woods, missing one shoe, with his clothes hanging off of his thin frame, but that didn't happen.

There was an echoing silence around Hope when she paused in her search. A few birds chirped in the morning air, water rushed languidly over rocks, and branched creaked in the wind.

Hope wasn't yet desperate enough to find the werewolf that she needed to call upon Mindy, but it was a very near thing when she stumbled into the stream, catching sight of a pale shoulder marred by a long scratch of faded crimson.

"Remus?  _Remus!"_

She moved forward, tripping over her feet in her haste and it was only by mere willpower that she didn't crumple completely into the stream.

Remus was lying half in the stream and half out, unmoving except for the occasional shift of his shoulders to indicate breathing.

" _Remus!"_

Hope tried to pull him up, but physical strength had never been something that she excelled at.

"Come on, wake up!"

Hope pulled the uninjured shoulder, trying to pull him onto his back before a sudden realization dawned on her.

"Oh, my,  _Zeus!"_  She flushed brilliantly. "You're not wearing any clothes!"

She released him as though burned, and Remus' face dropped against the ground with a grunt.

"Sorry,  _sorry!"_  Hope squeaked, raising her hands, but the man still slumbered on as though he hadn't even taken note of her actions, and Hope breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mindy!" she called as quietly as she could imagine, so as not to awaken him, seeing as he hadn't had much sleep the previous night.

Mindy appeared with a violent crack and Hope hissed like a snake at the noise before hushing the House-elf and beseeching her to take the werewolf back to the manor.

And thus give Hope a chance to save face.

How embarrassing…but it wasn't as though Hope was used to seeing nude bodies (Hope was a very innocent ten year old, thank you very much).

So she stomped back through the glen back towards the manor to throw herself into an almost scalding bath, but at that point, Hope didn't really care.

She hadn't slept all night but she wasn't really tired, though that could be considered over-tired to some.

Her hair was hanging in a wet curtain over the back of her shirt when she dropped by Remus' room, which was the closest to the steps, giving a soft knock and opening the door in time to see Mindy tucking the older man into the bed with a maternal kindness that Hope knew came from caring for her father and his friends when they came to visit.

"How is he?" she asked her quietly, staring raptly at the pallor Remus' face had taken on with eyebrows furrowed together.

"Mister Remus needs his rest," Mindy said simply, patting her hand softly before excusing herself, leaving Hope with the werewolf.

Hope gripped the book she'd brought with her tightly in one hand before pulling the intricately carved chair from the desk to plop it quietly on the floor beside his bed before opening to the first page of her favourite book.

 _"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,"_  Hope began, a slight smile lighting her face as she read the long-familiar words.  _"Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort._

_"It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats – the hobbit was fond of visitors…"_

* * *

Remus blinked fuzzily as he finally roused himself, his body aching something fierce, but at least he was sleeping on something softer than rocks, and for that he was grateful.

His vision cleared as he gave another blink and he found that he recognized where he was.

It was the room in Potter Manor that Hope had given him (more accurately, she had simply pushed him up the stairs and coerced him into staying and picking a room from the unoccupied ones). The lights were out and his desk was cluttered with an assortment of books that he had pulled from the Potter library and there was a weight on his hand.

In a chair that she'd clearly pulled from the desk was Hope. She was slumped against the chair, her head resting on one shoulder with The Hobbit open on one knee –just about to fall off, it seemed– and the other holding loosely to his own hand.

Remus recognized the book as a favourite of Lily's, though it probably wasn't her copy, given how much less worn it was.

Hope was breathing in and out deeply, clearly still fast asleep.

For a moment it made Remus smile but then the fear set in.

Last night had been one of his worse nights. The transformation was painful enough, but then he'd caught the scent of a human close by. In the back of his mind he had raged and tried to force the wolf back, but the wolf was always the one in control during the full moon (unless he was on the Wolfsbane Potion, but it had been a long time since he'd been able to afford that). He had known that the only human nearly was Hope and he had fought hard but it was in vain.

He had rushed forward, towards the window she was just beyond before he'd been swiftly rebuffed and Remus had been so relieved even when he realized he'd forgotten that Potter Manor had number of protective wards around it, not just the edge of the Potter lands, but around the manor itself as well.

And Hope had been safe, no matter how many times the wolf lunged for the manor, to break through the glass and savage the human girl that lay beyond.

But here she was, sleeping easily in the presence of a monster, her hair a dark curtain around her, moving ever so slightly from her breaths as she slept on.

Remus sat up slowly in the bed, moving carefully as he removed his hand from Hope's loose grip, expelling a sigh as he leaned back into the pillows.

He hadn't told Hope what he was before his transformation and he could only imagine what had gone through her mind when she'd seen the wolf –him– throwing itself at the window in an effort to reach her.

It had been fun while it lasted, to be the person that looked after James and Lily's daughter, but just because Lily and James had accepted him didn't mean that she would, and Hope had known nothing of werewolves when he had transformed whereas his friends had discovered what he was after so many terrible lies.

Hope stirred faintly, her eyes moving behind closed eyelids, her leg jerking and causing the book to drop to the ground. The sound it made when it hit the floor was more than enough to rouse her completely and solid grey eyes opened.

She looked more like Sirius than James in that instant, more than Remus would care to admit, but Hope was nothing like Sirius, nothing like the traitor they had all trusted in, the traitor that had caused the death of Hope's parents.

The grey orbs fastened on him before filtering back to their usual green.

"You're awake!" she noticed, a small smile curving her lips as she spoke, and then confusion marred her face. "What time is it?"

Remus, who had been expecting a different response upon her awakening, floundered and gaped at her, but Hope wasn't paying any attention to him, focusing instead on the heavy clock at his bedside that read eleven-thirty.

"Lunch time," she muttered, rubbing furiously at her eyes to rid the vestiges of sleep from them, the movement so hard that it gave her brief splotches of red around her eyes from the friction. "Do you want to just lie in bed or do you want to go and sit at the table?"

"I –what?" Remus said, staring at her blankly.

"Food. Lunch. Eat," Hope replied disjointedly in a deadpan. "I assume werewolves do eat, seeing as we ate together before now."

"It…" Remus swallowed convulsively. "It doesn't bother you?"

"Is it supposed to?" Hope asked in honest confusion.

"Well, my kind aren't typically…well received," Remus said a bit stiffly as Hope rolled her shoulders, ridding her body of the kinks she had gained while she'd been asleep.

"Why?"

Hope understood from reading that the transformation was painful, but her honest opinion of them was that they sounded rather cool, barring the whole hunting humans bit, which was a bit terrifying.

"Others believe werewolves are dangerous even when we're in our human forms," Remus admitted sadly. "The Wizarding World is one that discriminates greatly against us, making it nearly impossible to find work and keep it."

The skin over Hope's knuckles drew tight and her teeth gritted at the thought of someone like Remus, who was good and kind, being denied work because of what he was.

"That's not fair," she muttered angrily, "hating on someone for something they can't control…"

Remus gave her a tired grin. "Your mother said much the same."

Green eyes widened slightly. "She did?"

"Oh, yes…Lily hadn't been pleased with the secret I hid, but she understood why I had kept the truth from her and she did not take the prejudice against werewolves very well."

"Of course not," Hope scoffed. "No decent person would…so, lunch?"

And the way she looked at him was rather like James when he and the other Marauders had confronted Remus about being a werewolf, and it was one that said they didn't care a single bit about what he was.

And that made his heart swell with affection.

* * *

Hermione had never been invited to a sleepover, or in fact had anyone to sleepover with, but now she had two.

Hope and Daphne were really the most interesting people she had ever met, ones that didn't try to drag her down to their level, because they were already eye to eye, matching her trains of thought without much effort.

Daphne wrote by owl, which was the typical way witches and wizards communicated, Hermione had learned from  _Hogwarts, A History_  (which had a whole page dedicated to the school Owlery), and Hope's letters were usually delivered with sharp crack from Mindy.

But they did this thing where one person would write and then it would be sent to the second who would add their own letter to the envelope before sending it onto the third.

It was how Hermione learned that Hope had gained a new housemate ("He's kind of like my minder, but not really," was how Hope had described it), a man named Remus Lupin who had been close friends with her parents.

Hermione's parents seemed a bit more relaxed about the idea of Hermione spending a night or two at Hope's place now that there was an adult to keep an eye on them.

Most of Hope's letters mentioned Remus in one way or another: "Remus and I decided to try our hand at cooking biscuits, even though Mindy told us it wasn't going to end well…it was probably more of Remus' fault than mine that they were scorched; I can actually cook!" or "Remus thinks I'm going about Greek all wrong, but, you know, it's not like _he_  can speak it!" or "I was trying to read up on politics, since Remus thinks I'm too aggressive in the practice essays he's had me write, but politics is harder than it looks!"

Daphne, on the other hand, was more of a mystery, and they had only met for a few hours before they had gone their separate ways, but Hermione had learned much more about her since the three had begun penning letters to each other.

Daphne was the heiress to the Greengrass family, which was remarkably similar to Hope's old family times. She was the daughter of Atreus and Callista and had a younger sister named Astoria (her whole family was big on Greek and Latin names, she had admitted). Daphne wasn't one who liked to go out to fancy balls like her parents and younger sister. She was the type to hole up in the library for hours on end, studying history old and new and looking for new topics to occupy her time.

And this was why Hope, Hermione, and Daphne all got along so well; they were the studious type, but ones that it didn't take over their personality completely.

So Hermione was going to bring a few Muggle games and Daphne was going to bring a few wizard ones to play into the night.

And Hermione couldn't remember a time where she'd smiled so brightly.

* * *

Mindy's grip on her arm was the only thing she could feel, everything else was a bit harder to describe.

It was like she was being twisted in on herself, limbs, eyeballs, all being forced deeper in and Hermione found it to be very uncomfortable and not something she'd want to try again anytime soon.

"Hey, Hermione!"

Hope's voice was the first thing she heard upon their arrival and then she opened her eyes, swaying on her two feet, her bag on her back feeling as though it was weighed down by lead.

But Hope was smiling brightly with a sprig of lavender tucked into her hair, the same colour as the loose shirt she was wearing with her jeans. She didn't even seem to notice that there was ink smeared on her fingers, or, if she did, she didn't seem to care.

And Hermione hugged her friend tightly.

"Hope!"

"Daphne's probably going to show up in a few minutes," Hope hummed more to herself than to Hermione when they parted, with Hope checking the watch on her arm, but her calculations were a little off when the fireplace flared a bright acid green and disgorged two figures.

Callista Greengrass had been understandably surprising when her eldest daughter told her she'd been invited to tea at Potter Manor, since, as far as she knew, the last of the Potter family had been placed in the care of Muggles (however information concerning the famed Girl-Who-Lived was always a bit scant, so she could have dropped off the earth and no one would know).

She had remembered James Potter well, who had always been a bit of a flirt, even with Professor McGonagall, step by step with Sirius Black. But he was never to be taken seriously, she knew, because she had seen him whenever Lily walked by, she had seen his expression become dazed and slavish. Lily, on the other hand, she had known a bit better, as they had worked together a few times for class projects. She was a kind soul with a good heart and Callista would have never lowered herself to call her the demeaning slander of Mudblood.

Lily's daughter had her mother's eyes, the same size and shape, but her hair was as dark as James' had ever been. But James' hair had always been a bit of a mess and Hope's was instead set in loose curls that suited her.

"Miss Potter," Callista said simply. It would have been more formal to call her Heir Potter, but from what she was wearing, it didn't seem as though Hope had much of a care for formality.

"Lady Greengrass," Hope replied with a bit of grace that Mindy had instilled in her. "I'm glad you allowed Daphne to come stay for a night."

A brunette-haired girl was standing a little behind Hope, glancing between Callista and Hope with interest and Callista took her to be Hermione Granger, the Muggle-born girl Daphne had crossed paths with in Diagon Alley.

"Who could resist such an invitation?" Callista asked smoothly, before breaking eye contact with Hope to glance to her daughter, raising a hand to the small of her back.

Daphne had inherited much from her mother just as Hope had from hers. Unlike the Malfoys, who were known for their fair blonde hair, the Greengrasses had hair a rich colour of gold. Daphne shared her mother's blue eyes, light and clear, as well as her delicate features and arching eyebrows.

"Darling, remember your manners," she reminded Daphne. "I'll be along for you afterwards."

"Yes, Mother," Daphne replied diligently.

"Give Remus a hello from me," Callista added towards Hope, who couldn't stop her eyes from widening in surprise.

"You know Remus?"

"We were classmates," Callista said with a smile, "he was very kind when we were younger…he would have made an excellent professor."

She gave Daphne a significant look that Hope and Hermione couldn't have begun to understand before bidding her daughter farewell one last time and stepping into the fire once more.

"Your mum is very…mysterious," Hope decided once the flames had died down once more and the three girls were left in silence.

"She makes a habit of it," Daphne agreed.

"Well, anyways," Hope said, waving a hand, gesturing around the room at large, a wide grin encompassing her face. "Welcome to Potter Manor!"

* * *

Daphne knew what it was like to live in a house as large as Potter Manor, though the Greengrass family home was not quite as large as the manor, but Hermione had never had that luxury. Her parents were dentists, not lords with mounds of gold in the bank.

But if there was one thing Hope and Daphne didn't speak of, it was money. Wealth had been a constant presence for Daphne who had grown up as an heiress and Hope had only discovered the fortune her parents had left behind recently.

What Hope and Daphne cared about most was the library and Hermione couldn't fault them there, not after she saw the library in Potter Manor.

It was like every girl's dream (if they were like the three and could read a vast array of topics and never be bored).

Shelves upon shelves of books, thick and thin, some on Pure-blood politics, others on ancient history dating as far back as Ancient Egypt, but all concerning subjects of magic, which was by far the most interesting subject to be concerned with.

"It's  _beautiful!"_  Hermione was staring at the stacks with the same wonderment that Hope usually reserved for star-gazing.

Daphne's jaw had dropped open and she was openly gaping at the books. "This is…a lot more than we have at my place," she admitted.

Hope's cheeks pinked slightly. "I think the books have been taken from all over…my grandmother brought some books from the Black family when she married my grandfather…most of the books are from families that are extinct upon the male line, though…"

If one went as far back as the Dark Ages (or simply, the tenth century, depending on which you preferred), they would have found that there were a great deal more old families, far more than the Sacred Twenty-Nine, which excluded families that were not devoutly Pure-blood at the time of the 1930s.

"Remus is out at the moment, so we'll be having dinner by ourselves," Hope added.

"I wish my parents left me on my own," Daphne said with a sigh.

"Remus is just that cool," Hope said with a wide grin. "And he's not technically my guardian, so he can't really tell me what to do."

Hermione giggled, arching an eyebrow in return. "And how many times do you use that excuse?"

"I admit to nothing," Hope replied lightly, buffing her nails on her shirt with apparent interest.

"Oh, of course not," Daphne interjected dryly.

"I tell you he's like my live-in minder, but do you believe me, of course not!" Hope stuck her nose in the air, trying to give off an impression of a pompous nature, but it didn't completely work. "He tutors me now a bit more than Mindy, except for traditions, that's all Mindy's job."

Remus, like Peter and Sirius, had spent a good bit of time at Potter Manor in his youth, but he was also a Half-blood who had never been subjected to the hours upon hours of study that James had been. So in that subject, he was quite out of his depth; luckily, Mindy was well versed in old traditions.

"Enjoying polite speech?" Daphne asked her, her eyes glowing with repressed mirth as Hope gave her a scowl.

"No, it's irritating and Grandfather was laughing at me the whole time I was practicing it," she complained. "But has he ever learned it?  _Of course not!"_

Hope's flair for the dramatic had not changed, though Hermione suspected she saved it for private settings than public; Hope wasn't all that well-known for making a spectacle, unless it was to insult a few bullies, then she was all for it.

"Are we going to meet your grandfather?" Hermione asked, looking around for any hint of the man Hope had only described a few times.

"No," Hope waved a hand in a careless manner that almost made it knock against Daphne's shoulder. "He's probably off reaping souls and the like."

Daphne and Hermione shared a look of incomprehension that went completely over Hope's head. Honestly, they weren't sure whether or not to take that seriously…but Hope wasn't really known for her ability to lie.

"Come on, I want to show you lot the rest of the manor before Mindy's ready with dinner."

She grabbed their hands and tugged them out of the room without a second glance.

* * *

Hermione and Daphne didn't see much of Remus Lupin, but what little they did surprised them, though neither voiced it.

Remus Lupin was a man that was Daphne's parents' age (judging by the familiarity her mother had voiced), but his age showed more on him than it did on Callista. His brown hair was peppered with grey and there were scars on his face not unlike claw-marks.

He had looked a bit pale when Hope introduced them, but he still gave them gentle smiles and pleasantries.

He was probably still sleeping off the effects of the full moon (which Hope knew, but per his wishes, did not inform her friends), so late into the night found Hope, Hermione, and Daphne in their pyjamas, sprawled in the drawing room on plush pillows in front of the fire with books thrown haphazardly around them with a bowl of milk and a platter of biscuits to dip in it as Hope and Hermione tried their hand at wizard's chess with Daphne watching on with a bit of amusement (as they had grown bored eventually of the Muggle games Hermione had brought).

"Do you play any kind of instrument?" Daphne asked, more to Hermione than to Hope, as they had taken to posing each other questions that they didn't know.

"Piano," Hermione said, "not very well, though…pawn to A5."

The red piece –shaped a bit like a gravestone, if you asked Hope– slid forward on the board.

"Favourite magical subject?" Hope offered. "Rook to A5."

The white man on his white chair slid forward only to hop off and grip the chair and whack the red piece in two.

Hermione reeled back with a gasp. "That's  _barbaric!"_

" _So cool!"_  Hope burst into laughter as Daphne swallowed hers with her biscuit. "Oh,  _come on,_  Hermione, you can't say that it isn't cool!"

Hermione glowered at her, possibly because chess was something she wasn't very good at, but Hope didn't seem to notice.

"I like Arithmancy," Daphne said, after she'd taken a gulp of water.

"Arithmancy?" Hermione asked, momentarily distracted from the loss of her pawn by Daphne's words. "Doesn't that have to do with numbers?"

Hope groaned. "I  _hated_  maths in school!"

"It has to do with more of the magical properties of numbers," Daphne said, nudging Hope's side with her foot. "It's actually really interesting."

"Ancient Runes is  _far more_  fascinating," Hope disagreed. "And History of Magic."

"That's just because you're a nut for ancient history," Hermione said with a fond tone of exasperation.

"Who wouldn't be?" Hope countered, eyes glittering in the light of the fire. "I'm going to do something with Ancient Runes when I'm older, just you wait."

"And we'll be the ones most surprised by that choice of career," Daphne told her dryly and Hermione buried her giggles in her pillow as Hope scowled at the blonde.

"Really? Where is the love, I tell you?"

"Not here."

It really was too terrible when two people with as much sarcasm as Hope and Daphne got together.

Hermione was just there to make sure they didn't burn any bridges…and to watch the chaos unfold.

"Either way," Daphne continued with a smirk. "You're not going to be able to take Ancient Runes until third year."

"What?" Hope cried in outrage. " _Why?"_

"It's an elective," Hermione answered for her (she had read her way through Hogwarts, A History three times now), "electives are taken during third year and on."

"That's…disappointing," Hope uttered finally, her shoulders slumping and her lower lip jutting out just slightly.

"Unless you're planning to skip a few years," Daphne continued, causing both girls to tilt their heads towards her. "What?"

"I would do that just for Ancient Runes," Hope said with absolute certainty before dropping her head into the pillow and muffling a complaint of "Three years!"

"Can we do that?" Hermione appealed to Daphne.

"Do what?"

"Skip," Hermione said simply, smiling at the possibility.

"Probably," Daphne said, "I think there's a limit to how many years, though…there's probably a book on it in the library."

Hope wasn't sure if she was talking about her own library, Hope's, or the one at the school. She settled with it being Hope's.

Then Hope lifted her head and summoned Mindy. "Mindy! I'm going to need a lantern!"

"What exactly are we looking for?" Hermione hissed under her breath, not five minutes later as they entered the dark library.

Potter Manor had the ability to look very eerie at night (Hermione had seen a horror film before and she knew how it ended when little girls were left on their own in creepy manors) and made you want to whisper, even though the only ones currently awake in the manor were the three girls, and it had to be close to midnight by now.

"A book…" Hope said, speaking more to herself than Hermione as she lifted the heavy lantern up to the bookshelf that held books concerning laws in the Wizarding World. "Here it is!  _Bylaws of Magical Education by Warwick Proflen."_

She handed the lantern off to Hermione as she pulled out the thick tome to lug it towards a table.

"This is heavy stuff," Daphne muttered, trailing a finger down the table of contents: " _Limitations of Studies, Fraternizations Between Professor and Student, Expulsion Offenses…"_

" _Supplementary Education_ ," Hermione said suddenly, pointing to the inked words in question beside a small number that was a bit far in the heavy tome.

Hope turned to the page, flipping so fast that a cloud of dust rose up from the parchment, making all three cough profusely before it wafted into the air.

"Alright," Hope wheezed, "here it is… _Subarticle: Independent Studies…concerning students who wish to begin their education earlier than the age of eleven that is the starting point for most magical children in the United Kingdom, or, for whatever reason, find themselves unable to attend school whether for medical or personal reasons…students may study with a tutor, independent from the school…if the student wishes to skip grade levels through independent study, they may only do so for two levels."_

"Whoa, seriously?" Hermione slid the book more towards her than Hope, trailing a finger down the page as she skimmed much faster than Hope was sure she could possibly read.

"How many years is it at Hogwarts?" Hope asked Daphne above her head.

Unlike the other two, she cared less about the school, and more about the subjects, particularly ones that concerned interpretation of Ancient Runes.

"Seven…or I suppose five, if you wanted to skip two." Daphne gave a half-shrug.

Hope grinned widely, so much so that the flickering flame within lantern cast an odd shadow on her face. "I'm always up for a challenge…besides, I've never really like school; I'll take five over seven any day."

"Me too," Hermione piped up. School had always seemed a bit slow to her and she usually only kept herself from being bored by looking up an array of different kinds of books that she borrowed from the library.

"Shouldn't you three be asleep?" an unfamiliar voice spoke up behind them and all three let out a small scream, twisting violently around and gripping each other's arms.

Hope released a swear that would have grounded Hermione in two seconds flat, glaring at the speaker, half-shrouded in darkness.

" _Sweet Tartarus!_  Do you have to do that?" she demanded furiously. "Some of us are trying to live past ten, you know!"

He was like an alabaster carved statue, the likes of which Hermione was certain she had never seen, with eyes like dark holes in his head and hair an auburn that she had seen Hope sport once.

"I find it helps to keep curiosities on their toes," the man mused with curling lips.

"Is that what we are?" Hope asked, her lips drawing downwards in the corners.  _"Curiosities?"_

"For now," he replied with an arched eyebrow. "Tell me, dearest, do you make a habit of traipsing around in the dead of night?"

"It's my damn house," Hope muttered mutinously. "I do what I want."

"Clearly," he replied dryly.

"This is my grandfather," Hope told the two girls who had watched the way she spoke to the man that neither knew, and they believed him to be her grandfather even less; he was far too young! Not a wrinkle in sight. "Thanatos."

"Like the god of death?" Daphne asked with wide eyes. She knew all too well that the origins of magic were often tied to that of ancient gods and the Greengrass family was one supposedly descended from the goddess Adrestia who balanced good with evil.

"Yes," the god said with smirking lips, "quite like the god of death, you'll find…you must be Daphne Greengrass…and Hermione Granger."

Hermione jumped behind Hope when he said her name.

"How do you know our names?" Daphne inquired defensively.

"That would be telling," he replied slyly, "now, do you mind if I steal away my granddaughter for a few moments?"

He didn't wait for a reply before taking her elbow to guiding her firmly from the room to an area of solitude and silence close to the large doors that led outside.

"The Moirai have had words with me concerning you," Thanatos said and moonlight fell across his face from beyond the window.

"Moirai?" Hope said the Greek word slowly. She understood a bit more Greek now than she did before, but Moirai wasn't a term she was familiar with.

"The Fates," Thanatos explained. "Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos."

"Oh," Hope said, feeling a little stupid. She'd always known them simply as the Fates. "Why?"

"Because we all have events that must occur in our lives," Thanatos told her. "One small change can cause a much larger one."

"Okay…?" Hope didn't quite understand what he was talking about.

"Understand that there are very few completely honest people in this world, Elpis," he said, kneeling down in front of her and Hope jerked at the use of her ancestral name.

"Hermione and Daphne—"

"I am not speaking of your friends," Thanatos interjected. "This is a matter that concerns only you and the one that seeks to mould you to his means."

His hand was cold on her cheek and Hope's heart was frozen in her chest.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "Why would someone care about what I become?"

Why, indeed? It would be a question that would plague Hope's mind for a very long time, far after when Thanatos left and returned again. And it was these words that formed the foundation of the woman she would become, one who was a chess piece on a very different board than her chess-master had been counting on.

But Hope played by very different rules and his sacrifices were not the same to her.

"I believe it would be someone who has a certain plan set in place, dearest."

He gave her forehead a kiss, like a grandfather would, before promising to visit again and disappearing out of the door, vanishing into shadow.

Hope wondered if he knew how uneasy he left her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's another chapter done! I am on a roll! I actually might be working on Strongest of the Warlocks or Of the Spirit this weekend, so it might be a short bit before we see Hope again.
> 
> Thanatos being a cryptic little shit is what I live for, don't worry, next time he'll be a bit more fun.
> 
> Just so we're clear: This is not a crossover fic! No characters from other universes like Percy Jackson or World of Warcraft (which was frankly a ridiculous idea) or anything else. If it was to be considered a crossover fic, it would be HPxGreek Myths
> 
> Concerning pairings: No, Fred will not end up with Hermione or Daphne. I rather liked the pairings I had in Looking Beyond, so that's not going to change.
> 
> We'll get more into the girls studying in advance next chapter.
> 
> I'm considering doing Marauder-esque nicknames for the girls…any ideas for Daphne and Hermione?


	4. Students of the Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got a lot of great suggestions for nicknames, most of them were related to the Greek side of the girls names (which, ironically, I originally missed), but I was thinking something more along the lines of what the Marauders had, so what I currently have are:
> 
> Hope: Runespeaker
> 
> Daphne: (?)
> 
> Hermione: Silvertongue
> 
> (Luna: Swiftfoot) I might do Luna, but I'm not really sure at this point
> 
> To the reviewer that asked: Dumbledore's not stupid, every choice he makes is because of what he thinks is best, he's an intelligent wizard, but he's also a huge manipulator.
> 
> The year 90-'91 shall henceforth be known as 'that one time three girls tried to do two minimesters and almost died' (but they'll be fine, no worries, just a bit of brain leaking out through their ears to be concerned about)
> 
> I'm considering making the girls pranksters, because so many of you like the idea and frankly it's hilarious…any ideas for the girls group name?

Sunlight was shining through the windows in the drawing room when Remus walked through it the next day and he couldn't help but smile at the scene before the fireplace, now filled with ash, the fire long since put out.

Hermione and Hope were sprawled together with a mass of books surrounding them, limbs splayed and tangled together, making it difficult to see where one girl ended and the other began.

Daphne was nowhere to be seen, which was curious, since the last he had seen of Callista's daughter, she had been giggling with her friends over of a wizard's chessboard.

"Are they still asleep?"

He must have made an oversight, looking up to see Daphne step into the room fingers wrapped around a cup of tea.

Her sleep clothes were creased and her hair was dishevelled, falling down her shoulders, ripped from the braid it had been in before.

"So it seems," Remus chuckled. "Have you been up long?"

"No," Daphne said before taking a sip of her tea. "But I'm a light sleeper; it doesn't take much to wake me up." Blue eyes flitted towards him. "Mindy left a fresh batch of tea in the pot if you want any."

Some fresh tea was actually a rather good idea, so Remus followed Daphne to the kitchen table, pouring himself a cup and drinking it silently as Daphne sat down beside him, scrutinizing him intently in a manner quite similar to how Hope had when they first met.

It was true he hadn't met Hope's friends for very long the previous night, but he wasn't sure what he had done to warrant such a look.

"Can I help you, Daphne?" he asked, one of his eyebrows rising high on his forehead.

"You are the Remus Lupin that tutored my mother in Charms, aren't you?" Daphne pressed, eyes still narrowed as she rested her chin on her hand from her elbow, something her father would have reprimanded her for if he was here, but he wasn't.

"I am," Remus said, setting his cup down in its saucer, not knowing quite understanding why she was bringing it up. "Why?"

Daphne opened her mouth to speak when the sound of two stumbling bodies interrupted them as Hope and Hermione made their appearance.

One of Hermione's cheeks was pink from rubbing the rug while she'd slept and her bushy curls were knotted and in a tangled mess, Hope's hair, on the other hand, resembled a rat's nest and she was yawning widely.

"Mornin'," Hope said thickly, pulling herself into the chair across from Daphne and Hermione slumped into the one beside her, blinking blearily several times to clear the sleep from her eyes.

"Morning," Remus said with a tone of amusement as the light in the kitchen came on and Mindy set to work on making breakfast for the ones sitting at the table. "Sleep well?"

"Well? Doubtful." Hope rubbed viciously at her eyes. "But we slept a little, didn't we?"

She appealed to Hermione and the brunette took a moment to respond, her friend's words slowly punctuating her brain. "Did we sleep?" she asked, faintly confused. "I can't remember."

Daphne hid her giggles behind her hand as Hope sniggered and Remus released a few short chuckles.

"We got a little sleep," Hope decided. "We're not really sure how much, but we got sleep."

Mindy cleared her throat reproachfully beside her mistress and Hope's shoulders sagged slightly as she corrected her wording. "We slept a little, not much, but we slept."

Mindy nodded approvingly as Hermione laughed.

And then she piled the food onto the table and they were all a bit distracted by its presence, and soon everyone had some eggs and sausage and scones on their plates.

"What exactly were you reading up on last night?" Remus asked Hope after a gulp of hot eggs that blistered his throat but were far too good to complain.

"Oh, we've decided we're going to skip two years," Hope informed him.

"Oh, you are, are you? Why the sudden interest?" Remus was sure James and Sirius could have skipped a year if they cared enough, but they never had.

"Electives aren't until third year," Daphne said as an explanation.

Ah… "Ancient Runes?" Remus guessed, knowing Hope's obsession with the subject (he didn't even know how many books she had on the subject piled in her room and in the library).

"Yup," Hermione said, taking a hasty gulp of pumpkin juice before looking into her glass with fascination (she'd had water the previous night and had never drunk pumpkin juice before). "And Arithmancy…Arithmancy sounds pretty cool."

"Can you tutor us?" Hope prodded his hand with the blunt end of her fork.

Remus paused to look at her fully. It was quite clear how serious she was about the subject; if it wasn't, she wouldn't have spent most of the night doing research.

"You want me to tutor you in first and second year the year before you go to Hogwarts?" Remus asked her, just to clarify.

"Yes," all three girls said.

"But only first and second year," Daphne assured him, "after that we'll be set…you tutored my mother in Charms, she said you would have made a good professor."

Heat rose in Remus' cheeks at the compliment. Callista wasn't well-known for giving them and he hadn't known that she thought that.

"Did she?" he asked, feeling flattered.

"More or less," Daphne replied, lifting one shoulder and dropping it in a careless and half-hearted shrug. "But can you? Tutor us, I mean."

He looked from her to Hermione's eager ones and Hope's that were positively begging him to say yes.

"Please, please, Remus!"

Her big green eyes weren't helping the matter and Remus was sure that if James were still alive, he would be laughing at his daughter's antics.

Remus couldn't help but sigh. "If it's what you want."

And it certainly was.

* * *

It was easier for Hope and Daphne, Hermione later lamented, being from old families meant that they didn't attend Muggle school (well, Hope didn't attend  _anymore_ , not since she'd run away), but Hermione did and her parents weren't going to pull her out of it before the next year, not even if she was trying to get ahead in her magical studies.

But Hermione was a big girl; she could multi-task.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Her father asked her one night after she finished her English homework and had begun on Remus' first assignment, which was to take notes on the first two chapters of  _A History of Magic_  and write a short essay on the changes in magic use from Ancient Egypt to Ancient Greece and Rome (Hermione suspected that Hope was getting a kick out of the second part).

" _Yes!"_  Hermione insisted, stopping just short of grinding her teeth together.

She had lost count just how many times her mother and father tried to convince her to not overwork herself (and she wasn't overworking herself, thank you very much, she had her work under control and was a multi-tasking pro).

Her parents had only agreed to her doing both Muggle and magical studies if she promised not to fall behind in her Muggle studies, which she wasn't going to (Hermione was currently the only one in her class getting A's on almost every assignment).

But learning magic was still going to be hard work, as Remus had explained. Since he was going to be teaching them everything they had to know for year one in a matter of months instead of a whole year like they would have at school, meaning by January they'd be into second year…if they all got their work done at the right time.

The timetable that Remus had drawn up for the three girls was, in a word, hardcore. Every other school night Hermione would go to Potter Manor for a few hours to learn with Hope and Daphne on the practical application of magic, which concerned practicing spells and potion-making and the like.

It was hard to tell which part Hermione was more excited about: written or practical.

"You're not doing this just because your friends are?"

Hermione breathed out through her nose. "I'm doing this  _because_  I've finally got friends that understand me! They think like I do and I've never had that."

And Hermione had never felt more at home.

* * *

Daphne twisted her quill between her fingers, lack of interest in the quill being quite apparent as she searched the passage she was reading of her  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  for some information on Ashwinders and Fire Crabs.

It was a slow day, so to speak.

She, Hermione, and Hope had been on what Hope referred to as the hyper-schedule, given how much studying they were putting in in such a short amount of time, for about three weeks and they'd actually gotten pretty far (or, at least, they hadn't yet fallen behind).

Hope excelled in Defence Against the Dark Arts and did well in Charms and Transfiguration whilst being moderate in Potions (the problem seemed to be that Hope couldn't focus on a potion and would sometimes forget the steps).

Hermione excelled in History of Magic and Charms while doing moderately well in Transfiguration, but her Potions skills were better than Hope's.

Daphne, on the other hand, was brilliant at Potions, moderate at Charms, and terrible in History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Are you doing homework?"

Daphne looked up from the book to give her younger sister a smile. "Of course, you know me, always working."

Astoria giggled.

Astoria was two years younger than Daphne, but apart from that, she was quite similar in appearance to her older sister and her mother, complete with bright blue eyes and loose golden locks.

Daphne thought Astoria looked more like she was part-fey (something she thought of Hope too, but she'd never admit that to the girl who would probably smirk at her for good measure), she was more of a free-spirited person that Daphne was.

"When can I meet your friends?" the younger witch asked, pouting her lip in a manner that always got their father to do whatever she wanted, but it had yet to work its magic on Daphne.

"When we're not as busy, Stori," Daphne said, looking back to her half-done essay, but Astoria didn't take the dismissal.

Instead she looped her arms around the chair's arms, hanging off of it like a leech, dragging her legs and robes on the ground, something her parents wouldn't appreciate.

"Come on, Daph! I wanna meet your friends! Are they coming to the Winter Gala?"

Daphne grimaced at the mere thought of the gala. Her parents always attended them, and once Daphne and Astoria were old enough to not be too much of a nuisance, they had brought them along. Galas meant fine dresses and heels and standing for hours upon hours.

The old Pureblood families were the ones that attended, anyone from the Malfoys to the Abbotts. But they weren't the only ones to attend, the Minister and Ministry employees often attended.

Still, Hermione would have been a stranger in a sea of people, some of which who scorned her family's blood, but Hope would have fit right in, the daughter of a lord.

But Daphne also couldn't imagine them going to a gala without Hermione.

"Maybe," she said after a moment, and Astoria grinned widely.

* * *

Three cauldrons were bubbling over fires in one of the spare rooms in Potter Manor.

It was one of the larger rooms that had been cleared out to be made into a Potion's Lab of sorts. There was a table made for holding cauldrons and cupboards full of potion ingredients lining the walls, potion bottles –full and empty– , and various supplies for making potions.

It was a Friday, which were the girls' favourite days because they could spend most of their time together and get more work done on practical and written work…unfortunately it was also the day that Remus liked to give them exams.

Exams, unsurprisingly, were frequent and usually encompassed about four chapters worth of information for History of Magic and about two for all other subjects.

"The only way you're going to get this done is if you do it while it's still on your mind," Remus had told them the first time around. "The tests will be heavy…but the final exam matters more than the individual tests; the only way you're going to get to start second year in January is if you pass the final exam in December."

"Are you writing the exam?" Hermione had scrutinized the man intently, sucking on the end of her quill thoughtfully.

"Yes," Remus had said with a smile. "And the only way you are going to pass it is if you pay attention to everything I'm teaching and keep it fresh in your mind."

But the hours they spent in Potions was always the worst.

Hope was sure that once she got the hang of Potion-making, she'd like it better, but she had yet to actually do that…so she was still having problems while Daphne and Hermione were doing fairly well; it was making her feel dumber than she'd ever felt before.

Boil Cure.

That was what the Potions test was on today…and it involved recalling the ingredients and instructions in making the Boil Cure.

Hope was going to make her brain melt out through her ears with how hard she was trying to remember the words on the page she'd studied the previous night.

Six snake fangs had been crushed in her mortar, but how many measurements was she supposed to drop in the cauldron?

She squeezed her eyes shut, thinking as hard as she could manage. Four…yes, it was four.

Daphne glanced at her over her own cauldron when she released a sigh of relief, but Hope didn't seem to notice, scooping four measurements of the crushed snake fangs into the cauldron before giving the cauldron two clockwise stirs.

Then she drew the cutting board towards her with her silver knife and began to diligently slice the Pungous Onions which smelled something awful when she shook them out of the container, donning a pair of dragon-hide gloves rather than touching the onions with her hands –which was ill-advised, according to the potion's book.

Hope winced her eyes at the terrible smell before she stirred the sliced onions in, adding a few dried nettles and giving it three counter-clockwise stirs and starting the timer for thirty minutes.

"Ready for the Charms exam?" Hermione asked over her own potion.

Remus was marking them from the corner of the room, not commenting, but he didn't care if they talked, as long as they didn't talk about the potion.

"I think we should ask if you're ready," Daphne smirked. "What with Muggle school that you still go to."

Hermione sighed audibly. "You know the only reason Mum and Dad are letting me do this is because I'm doing school too."

"Are they a fan of overwork?"

Hope grinned as Hermione glared.

"My sister wants to meet you two," Daphne added.

"I'm sure that'll end well," Hope sniggered. "Imagine Daphne in miniature, that kind of chaos contained in a smaller form is worrying."

"Ha-ha," Daphne said while a smile crept onto Remus' face that the girls missed. "Very funny. She wanted to know if I was bringing you two to the Winter Gala."

"Winter Gala?" Hermione asked, but Hope didn't need to bother.

She'd learned a few things from Mindy, more than a few things actually, and she knew it was an old tradition to attend the Gala.

It was a Ministry-sponsored event, but that in no way hid the fact that the majority of the people that attended were Purebloods or in their pockets, but not all Pureblood families were bad, in fact, a good number of them were good and some were grey. But it was the bad ones that made Hope uneasy.

"Every year on the solstice," Daphne confirmed. "Ministry event…lots of old families are there, like mine."

"A lot of kissing up," Hope muttered under her breath, watching the timer with more interest than necessary and Remus glanced towards her briefly.

"That too," Daphne couldn't deny. "Mother and Father take me with them, but it's always a bore and Draco Malfoy is particularly insufferable…" Daphne gave a distinct shudder at the mention of the Malfoy Scion. The arrogance was enough to make anyone throw up a little in their mouth.

Luckily for them, their timers dinged and they didn't have the opportunity to finish the conversation in the stead of adding horned slugs and porcupine quills to their concoctions and stepping aside for Remus to review their results.

Daphne, of course, passed with flying colours, while Hermione earned an E+, it was nearly an O, but she'd made a small mistake with the heating (Hermione didn't seem too concerned about the near miss, though she did know what to do differently next time), and then he looked over Hope's potion and Hope held her breath.

Last time she'd gotten a P for Poor which was almost a passing grade, but still failing.

"Looks like you got an A this time," Remus told her with a small smile and Hope's face positively lit up.

" _Really?"_

"Really," he promised, laughing as she clapped her hands together in excitement, bobbing in place.

* * *

The flames flickered in the fireplace while Hope sat with a thick afghan thrown over her legs as she rested beside Remus, tucked against his side.

"Do you think Mum and Dad would be proud of me?" she asked him, her fingers curving over the spindly-carved words on the surface of the book in her arms.

Remus gave her shoulders a sharp squeeze. "Of course they would," he assured her. "Your parents were proud of you when you were a baby and they'd be proud of how far you've come…they never attempted to skip two years in one go, I think they'd be _very_  impressed."

Hope smiled at that, a smile that softened her eyes to the same hazel as her father's.

"But your father had a tendency to put his work off to the last minute," Remus mused, "and somehow still get great marks; it irritated your mother to no end."

She released a short laugh at those words.

They were halfway into October now, which meant they were pretty far in their Year One studies, which were due to finish on December 18. Hermione was somehow managing to stay on top of Muggle and Magical studies with what seemed to be very little effort, but Hope doubted it was all it appeared to be.

She had been pulling up her Potion's grade, slowly but surely, and Remus was a strict and hard task manager.

They all made half-hearted complaints behind his back but none of them really meant it…as he well knew (it was ridiculous how well he could hear).

But Hope wasn't too concerned about her grades, she was keeping up in her studies and passing (well, passing now in Potions) them…it was something else entirely that was capturing her thoughts, and that was the approaching Halloween, the day her parents had been killed.

"Can you…" She swallowed, her throat going dry. "Can you tell me about that night?"

She felt more than saw his shoulders sag at the question and she had always known the loss of his friends had wounded him deep in his soul, because sometimes she'd catch him looking at her with that melancholic expression, like when she'd worn her hair in a dark red colour instead of the usual black.

For a moment he did not speak, instead choosing to gather his thoughts.

"I suppose I should start a bit before that night," Remus said and Hope glanced up to meet his eyes. "What do you know about a wizard named…Voldemort?"

If he had been in the presence of anyone other than her, in the presence those who had grown up fearing the name, the name would have inspired a bit more of fear than the expression she was currently wearing.

"He was a Dark wizard, wasn't he?" she asked. "He killed a lot of people in the war, including Mum and Dad."

"Yes," he said, and if Hope noticed how his voice trembled, she didn't mention it, "he did. Those were much darker times…Voldemort was a wizard that went dark, as dark as you could possibly go. And he killed anyone who got in his way, the Bones', the McKinnons, the Prewetts…your parents…"

The fire cast a flickering shadow across Remus' face, a shadow that seemed to sink into the scars on his skin.

"More than twenty years ago he started gathering followers, some who joined him were afraid of what he would do to them if they didn't, others thought that his beliefs were the only right and they wanted a bit of the power that he possessed, because Voldemort was a very powerful individual back then."

His voice had darkened and Hope couldn't stop the shiver that descended down her spine.

"Back then it was hard to know who to trust, especially with people dying and others disappearing…friends could become enemies in an instant."

His grip on her shoulder tightened and Hope tried not to wince.

"Didn't anyone try to stop him?" Hope asked, curling her legs up to her chest. "The Ministry or anything?"

"Some attempted," Remus conceded, "but the ones that stood up to him were often found dead not a day later…the fear is what kept most people quiet, I think; fear of what he'd do if he found out they were going against him. By that time, the only safe place was Hogwarts."

"Why?" Hope asked, her eyebrows drawing together in her confusion.

"Well, there was only one person that Voldemort was truly afraid of, and that was Albus Dumbledore—"

Hope scowled at the mention of the meddlesome Headmaster of Hogwarts that had dropped her at the Dursleys without so much as a thought.

"He wasn't about to take Hogwarts, not with Dumbledore there," Remus told her, not missing the look she had made at the mention of the aged wizard. "But your mum and dad weren't afraid to fight against him, and they weren't the only ones…but something changed."

"What changed?" Hope tugged on his robes, enraptured by the morbid tale.

"I don't know," Remus said with a sombre note. "I know that one night Lily was playing Gobstones with me waiting for James and…Sirius to come back from patrol, and the next they had gone into hiding. Lily was heavily pregnant with you at the time and she couldn't fight with James as she had before… But lots of witches and wizards were going into hiding at that time. Only one person knew where they were, and that was their Secret-Keeper, Sirius Black."

There was that name again…Sirius Black, Hope's imprisoned godfather. Hope knew next to nothing about him, other than the fact that he was best mates with her own father, she didn't even know what he had done to end up in the magical prison, Azkaban.

"The war was still going on when you were born—"

"Were you there?" Hope asked him curiously.

"No," Remus chuckled softly, "but James and Sirius were…and your father brought you over for us all to see, Peter and I, and everyone else fighting against Voldemort, everyone found you adorable when you kept changing the colour of your hair and eyes."

Hope's cheeks flooded with colour.

"But that was the only time I saw you before when we first met," Remus told her. "Your parents weren't willing to risk your safety to go against Voldemort."

"So what went wrong? Why did my parents even need to be in hiding?"

Remus' fingers knotted into his greying hair briefly. "There was something that Dumbledore told them that made them fear for your safety…to this day I still don't know what it was, and by that time distrust had turned towards me."

Hope's eyes flashed amber in the light.

"Werewolves have always had a deep prejudice shown towards them," Remus said matter-of-factly, though Hope could plainly see how his jaw tightened. "Sirius had begun to suspect that I was a traitor given how many werewolves were fighting for Voldemort instead of Dumbledore…your parents chose to cast a Fidelius Charm as the most powerful means to keep you, and them, safe, and chose Sirius as their Secret-Keeper."

"Fidelius Charm? Secret-Keeper?" These words meant nothing to Hope.

Remus tugged on the end of Hope's loose braid with a fond smile before explaining. "The Fidelius Charm is a powerful spell that allows a secret to be kept inside of a single soul, the secret, in this case, was your parents' home in Godric's Hollow. And the only way for the secret to be discovered is if the Secret-Keeper revealed the secret themselves."

Hope chewed aggressively on the inside on her cheek. "You're saying that Sirius Black gave them up?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying," Remus said, a harsh note in his voice being clearly detected. "Voldemort found out where you lived and he came after you and your parents…a-and when he tried to kill you, something went wrong."

He was blinking furiously and Hope brought one hand up to the one that was looped around her shoulders.

"No one really knows what happened after he entered the house," he admitted once he'd collected himself. "He killed your parents and then her tried to kill you, but for some reason he couldn't…that's why you've got a scar on your forehead."

Hope raised a hand to trace over the lightning-bolt scar that had been etched into her skin for as long as she could recall, like the floral design on her shoulder, the one that seemed a bit like watercolours on skin, of roses and lavender.

She could barely remember anything about that time, she was very young. But she still had nightmares dominated by a flash of green light and a high-pitched laugh.

"It's from powerful Dark Magic…but for some reason the curse didn't work on you, that's why everyone in the Wizarding World knows your name."

"Everyone what?" Hope was positively gaping at him now. She had thought it was strange when Daphne knew her by her name alone when they first met, but she hadn't expected to consider that to be normal.

She thought "Girl-Who-Lived" was more of a joke, but clearly she couldn't have been more wrong.

Hope found herself quite beyond words.

* * *

The first time Remus Lupin met the god Thanatos was at Potter Manor's main doors.

The rap of knuckles on the door was clear, even for Remus to hear in the library (where he was currently going over the girls' most recent essays.

He had been on his way to grab a spare quill and some more ink from his room when he'd caught sight of Mindy opening the door to an unknown figure.

"Lord Thanatos," she squeaked before giving a short curtsy, permitting him inside. "Mistress is practicing in the ballroom."

"I'll try not to interrupt her until she's done," came the musical reply as he stepped into the light of the foyer.

He was just as Hope had said, beautiful, and there hardly seemed to be any other way to describe him. Hope's hair was the same colour as this man's today, though much longer and done up in an intricate bun that was clearly the work of Mindy and the light above cast highlights of gold and red through the man's hair. But nothing could possibly compare to the solid black eyes, if they could be considered eyes and not holes.

The fluid way he spoke was something that Hope was attempting to replicate with her 'polite speech', as she called it, and that and the way in which he walked was faintly aristocratic.

Dark eyes fell to him and for a moment he didn't speak, merely observing Remus with apparent fascination.

"You are Remus Lupin," he said, shrugging off a sweeping cloak for Mindy to hang in the closet. "My granddaughter has spoken fondly of you."

"You're Thanatos?" Remus guessed even as he took the man's strong grip.

"That is correct." Thanatos' lips curled upwards slightly. "And you are the werewolf son of Lyall and Hope Lupin."

Remus' heart stuttered in his chest at the admission and his hand tightened to a fist at his side. "How do you—"

"I know everything," Thanatos said in a way that wasn't meant to be construed as arrogant but neither was it humble. "I know each death and life of the mortal race…it's all recorded in my book."

He waved a hand and suddenly he was holding a thick tome in his hand that bore no title and seemed to be blackened by fire of some sort.

"I offered my granddaughter a glance within once," he mused before vanishing the book as though it had never been there to start with. "Wisely, she elected not to."

Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Was that a test?"

His smirk widened. "Indeed, it was…in the ballroom, was she? I'll follow the music."

Remus was still looking at his oddly when he began to make his way towards the room in question and after a moment of deliberation, Remus hastily followed after him.

The music trailing out of the ballroom wasn't perfect, not by far, but Hope had been diligently practicing every day, when she wasn't studying or learning from Remus, that is.

Notes flowed through the air, echoing off the ballroom's walls and through the wide doors that led into the rest of the house, low and smooth…melancholic. Every so often the notes would stutter or come out completely wrong before starting up once more.

She was standing in the middle of the room with her back to them, the violin resting under her chin as she drew the bow across the strings.

The curtains over the windows were drawn back to allow sunlight to filter in through the glass, so that crisp leaves blowing in the autumn wind could be seen.

To go with the bright colours of autumn, Hope had donned a soft yellow dress and Mindy had forced her into a pair of short heels before sending her off to practice, citing the reason that she needed to get used to wearing heels. She was only allowed to take them off once she was finished (and Remus had watched Mindy give her mistress a very stern expression that had only made her groan with exasperation).

The music came to a stop after a bridging crescendo and then Hope removed the violin from its position at her neck, breathing in and out deeply as though the act of practicing was enough to leave her breathless.

She knelt to lock the instrument back in its case when the sound of clapping jerked her head around so that she could see the one clapping.

"Grandfather!"

There was a definite spark in her eyes when she caught sight of Thanatos before she speeded towards him –a bit clumsily in the heels she wasn't used to– to throw her arms around his neck, still grinning widely as he wrapped his arms around her back.

"Did you reap any souls for me?" Hope asked once they parted, which was a strange question to ask, Remus thought privately to himself, but it brought a small laugh from Thanatos' lips.

"Only always," he chuckled, cupping her cheek with an alabaster hand that was just a few shades off from Hope's fair shade. "I've met your minder…it seems he'll do nicely."

Hope's smile fell into a frown. "You're just saying that 'cause you'd like someone to keep an eye on me." She crossed her arms for good measure.

"Perhaps," Thanatos smirked, leaning back from the bent position he had been in in order to be level with Hope to glance towards Remus. "Look after my granddaughter," he told him, halfway caught between a request and a demand.

"I do try," Remus said, slightly exasperated and Hope didn't bother to hide her amusement.

"At least Remus isn't cryptic like you are!" she elbowed the god harshly, but he didn't so much as blink.

"One day, dearest, you will learn why some people are cryptic such as I," he said with a bit of flair that reminded Remus of Sirius.

And Hope muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "Drama Queen."

"I heard that."

Hope ignored him.

* * *

The lamp by Hope's bedside was lit and Hope should have probably been asleep, but it wasn't that late and she had barely just finished her school work and wanted to read something else before bed.

Which was why she was holding her many times great-grandfather, Salazar Slytherin's book in her hands, the parchment yellowed with age and bearing a serpent embossed on the leather.

The way he wrote was a bit strange to her, categorized by subject rather than date, though there were dates, they seemed to be a bit over the place.

There was one entry under:  _Travel_

_It began as an idea and slowly grew into something so much more. Broomstick travel is so tedious even to those of us that are in still in our youth. Morea, my love, prefers travel over earth than by air, as it is. Thus Flashing was born._

_Flashing is a name for a new magick I have created which will be used in order to move from one place to another instantaneously. The act of moving from one destination to another will be so fast that it seems as though a flash of light has appeared."_

_Morea fears I am spending too much time in my study working on this magic, however I believe it is well worth the effort, else I would not risk the wrath of my lovely wife. It, like many magicks is controlled by mere thought. To wish is to be. I can only hope I succeed when I test my theory on the morrow. It would be a shame for my wife to be told her foolish husband twisted himself into nothing before our first anniversary._

_I suspect it will not go entirely to plan, but for progress to be made there must be sacrifices, I am certain Morea can understand that desire I have._

_If the need arises, I shall bring with me my most faithful companion, the one who has guarded my love and I, the knight lycanthrope Sir Michael Richmond. Perhaps then Morea will relent…if not, then I shall at least have one to keep company with…_

A lycanthrope knight? Hope hadn't heard of such a thing. From how Salazar described him, it was difficult to tell if he was Muggle or Magical, and if he was Muggle, that would be very impressive indeed, after all, Muggles weren't known to survive the process of lycanthropy.

Salazar sounded a bit like a mad scientist, if you asked Hope, coming up with magicks and then testing them out himself…all the while doting on his wife and trying to keep her as uninformed as possible.

That bit was probably what Hope found to be the most hilarious.

And so she continued to read with a small smile on her face.

* * *

"Tell me the movement for the Levitation Charm and the incantation."

Daphne, Hermione, and Hope were in the ballroom.

They were technically finished for the day, but had opted to stay two more hours in order to review for their final exam, though it wasn't for almost a month and a half.

But Hope and Daphne were also trying to teach Hermione some Pure-blood etiquette for the Winter Gala which Hermione's parents –after much badgering– had agreed to, pending an introduction to the adults that would be watching their child for the evening, which were Callista and Atreus Greengrass.

Atreus had been quite busy at the Ministry, but Callista had gone to pay Hermione's parents a short visit to assuage their fears of leaving Hermione with someone they didn't know.

Hermione was standing with her back straight and balancing a book on her head with difficulty, which looked difficult until you got used to it.

"Swish and flick," Hermione recited clearly, taking one step and then another, trying to keep the book on her head as she did so. "And Wingardium Leviosa."

"I don't think you're going to have any trouble with Charms, Hermione," Daphne commented, going over the parts of the study reference they'd been working on.

"Well, that's one out of seven," Hermione said, though it was clear she wasn't despondent at those odds (they had, after all, only gone through one of seven subjects).

"Hm…Hope…tell me about the Switching Spell."

Hope removed the book from Hermione's head, hefting it easily in her arms as Hermione went to join Daphne, lounging on the ground.

"It's a spell used to exchange two objects, such as a bottle and an apple…but it's also a fourth year spell."

"If it's a fourth year spell, then why did Remus tell us about it?" Hermione piped up, dropping to rest her back against the floor only to curl inward with a muffled complaint once Daphne jabbed her in the stomach.

"I think it was more of an example of transfiguration, I think," Daphne mentioned, flipping through her notes, searching for where it had been mentioned. "You know I half want to give up on this, it's so much work!"

At that Hermione sat straight up, almost comically fast, lips ajar and eyes wide. "Daphne, you can't do that! Look how far we've come! We'll be done with first year in a matter of weeks and then we'll get two weeks off before we start the next year!"

Daphne was mildly startled by Hermione's enthusiasm, but Hope couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, Daphne, don't give up on us," Hope urged. "You don't want to leave us to do this all by ourselves, do you?"

The vexed expression that morphed onto Daphne's face was enough to make Hope's hair turn strawberry-blonde, which didn't do much to help her mood, if the glare thrown her way was any indication.

"I suppose not," Daphne conceded, pulling study reference towards her once more. "Alright, then: Describe why you might need to know how to change a match into a needle?"

"A match has a different composition than a needle, the transfiguration is meant to prepare us for altering the composition of more vastly different materials," Hope said, closing her eyes to remember her familiar scrawl across page of page of notes.

And their reviewing session continued on that vein for quite some time, and by then they'd passed the time when Hermione was supposed to return home, via Mindy, so the brunette witch had to rush off and collect her school work where she'd dropped it in the library.

"Mental, that one," Daphne decided, shaking her head as she watched their friend hurry away.

"Aren't we all?" Hope asked fondly, as Daphne shoved her own work –which had been cluttered around her as opposed to all over the place. "Well, the best of us," she conceded.

"Whatever you say, Potter."

"You know it, Greengrass," Hope smirked as the Greengrass heir straightened up, resting her bag on her shoulder as she did so, and they moved towards the entrance to the ballroom, taking the corridor back to the drawing room. "When are we going to meet the little sister you've told us all about? Do we have to wait until December?"

"Hopefully not," Daphne said with a bit of exasperation as Hermione shuffled forward to join them. "Stori wants to meet you two, but it's more of a matter of not being busy…and we're all really busy."

"You're not wrong," Hermione agreed thoughtfully before brightening. "What about Halloween? Remus gave us that day off."

Hope gained a pained expression at the question that made Hermione's eyebrows crease in confusion. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong with Halloween?"

"My parents were killed on Halloween," Hope said quietly and Hermione gave a horrified gasp –she had known about Hope's parents being dead, of course, but she hadn't known when the murder had occurred– while Daphne looked on sombrely, already being well aware of what the date meant to Hope.

While so many witches and wizards celebrated the day Voldemort had been killed, Hope mourned the day she had lost everything, her parents and the love they had given her. It seemed almost cruel to celebrate with that knowledge.

"Oh, I'm so  _sorry_ , Hope—!"

"Its fine," Hope said, waving a careless hand. "Remus and I are going to go and visit their graves, that's why we're taking the day off."

"Oh," Hermione said a bit meekly.

Hope forced a smile onto her face quickly. "Don't worry about it, Hermione, you just enjoy your day off, alright?"

Hermione glanced between Hope and Daphne before muttering an affirmative before taking the hand that Mindy offered to take her home.

"You'll be alright, won't you?" Daphne asked her, capitalizing on Hermione's absence.

"This is me, we're talking about," Hope felt the need to point out. "Of course I'll be fine."

But whether she got a good night's rest was something else entirely.

* * *

The Granger home was always decorated for Halloween, even given the ironic feeling there was as of late; the idea that many children chose to dress up as creatures that were already in existence, such as witches and vampires and mermaids.

The candy variety wasn't much to speak of, owing to the fact that Hermione's parents were dentists so all the candy they handed out was sugar free, but it all tasted well enough that no one could really complain.

"What are Hope and Daphne doing for Halloween?" Mrs. Granger asked her daughter as they set to work on carving a pumpkin.

They'd plastered the kitchen floor under the pumpkin with old newspaper as Hermione's mother cut into the pumpkin with a careful knife.

"Daphne's family does a small feast for Halloween," Hermione told her, "her younger sister was really excited about it, apparently." She giggled when she recalled how Daphne had rolled her eyes for good measure.

"The girl can't get enough of her sweets," Daphne had said, but it was hard to tell if she was talking about her sister or herself, because Daphne had a bit of a sweet tooth as well.

"And Hope?"

Hermione's mother had a fondness for both of Hermione's friends, but she felt just a bit more towards Hope for being Hermione's first friend. And, Hermione supposed, her mother felt Hope needed a bit more mothering than Daphne did, given her former home situation and current one which lacked a –for the most part– motherly influence. Mindy was nice and very kind but she wasn't the same.

"Hope doesn't celebrate Halloween," Hermione told her mother carefully as she helped her pull out the pumpkin's insides onto the spare newspaper beside them, but some of it still slipped through her fingers.

"Really?" Mrs. Granger's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "She seems the type to celebrate it."

Autumn was Hope's favourite time of the year, that much was true, and there were carved pumpkins sitting on the doorsteps of Potter Manor (to be seen by no one, but that wasn't the point).

"Her parents were killed on Halloween, Mum," Hermione said as delicately as she could.

"Oh, dear!" Mrs. Granger looked very regretful, pausing in cutting out triangular-shaped holes in the pumpkin for eyes. "How terrible!"

"She and Remus are going to visit her parents' graves today," Hermione added, just as delicately before. "I invited her to come over, but I think she'd rather be in a graveyard today."

"Of course she would," Hermione's mother said with a great deal of understanding. Her own mother and father had been killed in a car accident before Hermione was born and she still went to visit them on the anniversary of their death.

It would have been harder for Hope, though, not having as many memories of her mother, if any at all.

"Go put this up on the ledge outside, would you, dear?"

Hermione complied.

* * *

Hope's eyes fluttered open once Remus had finished Apparating them to the town of Godric's Hollow and it wasn't what she'd been expecting.

It was a village that held both Muggle and Magical families, which was very rare (according to one of the books she'd read on magical establishments), but they'd apparently come out in the Muggle section, as there were already children dashing around in various costumes and with bulging bags of candy.

A little girl in a witch's outfit waved at Hope. "Nice costume!" she called and Hope gave her a small smile in return.

In truth, it was mostly a coincidence.

Hermione had gotten her these green and purple tights as a late gift for her birthday once she'd found out about being a witch. Mindy had forced the dark purple witch's hat on her before she'd let Hope out the door ("It is windy, Mistress!").

"It's a bit of a walk," Remus admitted sheepishly as Hope took his arm when it was offered to her.

"That's alright," Hope said, looking around with interest as they meandered around the various children running to and fro, dressed as superheroes and creatures or the dark and princesses.

Hope had never done so when she was younger and had always watched Dudley and the neighbourhood children with jealousy, but now she did not. Ironically, the only thing Hope had ever considered dressing up as was a witch, and now Hope had no need to be anyone else.

"Did you ever do anything for Halloween?" she asked Remus as they walked on. "When you were younger, I mean."

"Halloween was all about wearing a mask and becoming someone else for a night…but I already did that once a month," he gave her a wry smile as she tightened her hand on his arm just slightly. "I never truly felt the inclination, though my mother and I spent the night baking as much sweets as we desired."

Hope's eyes fell to the cobbled stone under her feet before she brightened, looking up to him. "We should do that when we get back."

He gave her a soft smile that he reserved for his pseudo-niece alone, squeezing her hand where it was on his arm. "You want to?"

"Yeah," Hope bobbed her head in agreement, still smiling. "If we can convince Mindy to leave us alone in the kitchen after last time."

Remus released a small laugh, remembering the day in question. Mindy had practically thrown them out and grounded them ("I'm a grown man," Remus had pointed out, but the House-elf still swatted him. "You is grounded!" she insisted) from the kitchen for several weeks.

The crescent moon was high up in the sky and clear to be seen, stars twinkling on either side. The view of the sky really was quite lovely, but it was not nearly as good as the view from Potter Manor.

They took a turn down a road that the Muggles blew by completely, missing it as though it wasn't there at all, which was an appropriate assumption.

The road was lined with cottages, but it was much quieter than the Muggle portion of the village, some had lights on, others were dark, their occupants already in bed and asleep.

Remus and Hope were the only ones out as they passed under golden streetlights, casting eerie shadows in the night.

"We're going to pass by where you and your parents used to live," Remus told her after a moment and Hope looked up sharply. "We don't have to stop if you don't want to."

"No," she said quickly, the light reflecting in her eyes, "I want to see it."

Remus a short nod and swallowed thickly as they moved forward with the cool air blowing around them, crisp leaves dancing past them in the wind, rustling as they skittered across the ground.

Hope wasn't sure what exactly they were looking for, but she knew it when she saw it.

The cottage that her parents had hid in with her was ruined by age, spell-damage and fire. It was small and modest, what was left it, at least, but there had only been three of them living there at the time. The shrubs and flowers that were overflowing over the gate were crisp and no longer the green they should have been, left unattended for over sixteen years. The most ruin was evident by the gaping hole at where Hope's room must have been which was where the spell had backfired.

It was strange to be so close to the place where it all had started, where her parents had been killed, where she'd gotten her scar, and where she had been taken from forcibly by Dumbledore's commands.

Hope hardly seemed to notice Remus beside her as she removed her hand from his arm to lift them to the gate, the metal cool against her hands and then she recoiled suddenly as a wooden sign rose out of the earth bearing the legend in golden letters:

_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their daughter, Hope, remains the only witch ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family._

Hope read the words silently with wide eyes before realizing there were other words on the sign, clearly added by other witches and wizards who had visited the ruined home.

_Good luck, Hope, wherever you are._

_If you read this, Hope, we're all behind you!_

_Long live Hope Potter._

Hope chewed aggressively on the inside of her mouth as she read the words, blinking a few times for good measure.

"Do you want to go in?" Remus asked her quietly.

Hastily, Hope shook her head, tugging on his arm with her hand. "I want to see them," she said softly instead and Remus nodded in understanding.

And he took her to a different path, through a kissing gate, and into the silent graveyard. Remus navigated the tombstones with ease, and it was clear that her had come to visit James and Lily Potter many times.

The tombstone they came to a stop before was made of white marble that made it easy to see, even in the darkness.

JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

Hope knelt into the ground, not caring if she stained her knees, brushing off the leaves and anything else that had been left on the tombstone, perhaps by the passing breeze.

Remus gave her a bouquet of lilies and lavender to place before the tomb, one that he had clearly formed out of thin air, but that didn't matter. Hope took them gratefully and placed them in the ground with trembling fingers before choosing to trace the same fingers over her parents' names.

Her sight blurred as tears welled in her eyes before spilling over completely, trailing down her cheeks, seeming to be endless in that moment.

* * *

Charlus Potter's study had not been touched since his untimely death, but it was Hope's study now.

She took a thick key from the ring that held the master-keys to the Manor, which only Hope possessed, and slid it into the keyhole of the door that had clearly been decorated in the mind of the House that its owner belonged to, Gryffindor.

The door swung open with a bit of difficulty, clearly from disuse and then Hope found herself in a darkened room with curtains drawn over the windows.

She lifted her wand and muttered a " _Lumos!"_  causing a bright light to erupt from the wand's tip, illuminating the room enough for Hope to turn on the lamp on the desk, which cast a soft orange glow over the room.

There was a lot of dust that needed to be cleared and there was a pile of unopened mail sitting on the grand desk.

Hope moved forward to pull back the curtains and permit sunlight to flood in, painting a patch of light onto the carpet and then she strode towards the high-backed leather chair that sat behind the desk.

It had clearly been made to seat a man and not a girl, but that hardly mattered now.

The Lord of the Potter Family was now a Lady.

Hope sat down and she felt as she had sitting opposite Ragnok months previously in a chair that threatened to drown her.

The desk was very tall and she was small, so it didn't really help matters, but Hope was sure that she'd grow a bit so that it wasn't so obvious before she could claim her ladyship, at the age of fifteen.

But for now Hope just slumped back against the leather, which was neither warm nor cold, expelling a loud sigh as she did so.

Daphne and Hermione were going to be coming by later for practical lessons in Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Hope still had time before they showed up.

She picked up the mail resting on the table, noticing how they left a shadow behind in the dust, showing just how much had accumulated over time since the envelopes had first been placed there.

It seemed to be outgoing mail, judging by the wax seal on the envelopes and Hope felt incredibly awkward about opening them.

On one hand, her grandfather was dead, so he couldn't possibly mind her reading his mail, but on the other hand…it  _was_  his mail.

After a moment of deliberation, Hope broke the seal on the first envelope and pulled the parchment within free.

It had been addressed to the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot concerning a bill that apparently Charlus had not been able to vote on (Wasn't that an absentee ballot? Hope didn't know much about politics or voting).

The letter was smooth and direct, stating his thoughts while still not coming off as overly aggressive. The bill appeared to be one he was firmly against, concerning the favouritism that was shown towards not just Purebloods but specific Purebloods, such as ones with pro-Light leanings.

 _Dark, Light, and Grey are three radically different views, I will concede,_ Charlus had written, _however, we should not be predisposed to certain views despite our current situation. Prejudice towards certain families can lead to an assortment of difficulties at a later date—_

Hope jerked up at the sound of Hermione and Daphne's voices blurring together and she dropped the letter to hasten to meet them.

* * *

Mindy had dropped off Hope and Hermione and then disappeared, leaving the two girls to wait in the parlour while the Greengrass family House-elves informed their master of their presence.

The Greengrass Manor might not have been as grand as Potter Manor, but it had an ageless class to it that Hope's home could not have dreamt of replicating.

While Potter Manor was full of a multitude of rich colours, Greengrass Manor was much lighter with soft creams and faint golds strewn throughout.

Hermione fiddled with her robes before Hope smacked her hands away.

"Stop fussing, you look fine."

"Says you," Hermione muttered. "Why couldn't we have come in our normal clothes?"

" _Because,"_  Hope said with grating patience, as she had gone over the subject several times already with Hermione, as had Mindy (ever in charge of etiquette that she was), "we are guests in Lord Greengrass' home and we should be respectful of his traditional views."

"No matter how old-fashioned they are?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow for good measure and she earned a small smirk in return.

Hope, per Mindy's suggestion, was wearing lavender-coloured robes with long sweeping sleeves, while Hermione wore borrowed periwinkle blue robes from her friend, though they fit rather well, so it wasn't easy to notice.

And the robes, while being of quality-make, were quite casual, which was what this meeting was.

The sound of rushing footsteps jarred them out of their thoughts in time to see a slim golden-haired girl jump down the steps of the staircase, taking them two at a time until she skidded across the floor in her flats, twisting around in a way that seemed to contort her spine as she searched for someone.

A call on the second floor came sharply in a reprimand. " _Astoria Danaë!_  Slow down!"

Astoria ignored the voice when she saw the pair, rushing towards them instead.

Hope and Hermione took a step back so as not to be bowled over by Daphne's exuberant younger sister.

"Hi!" Astoria said brightly, beaming at both of them. "I'm Astoria!"

"Er…hello," Hermione said first. "I'm Hermione Granger, this is Hope Potter." She aimed a thumb in Hope's direction as she introduced her and Hope gave a respectful nod.

"Daph's told me all about you," she informed them cheerfully.

"Not everything, I hope," Hope drawled out. "I'd like to keep some of my mystique."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Astoria giggled as Daphne descended the staircase at a more leisure pace, walking side by side with her parents.

"Astoria, stop accosting our guests," Callista Greengrass said with a note of exasperation in her voice, but her husband, Atreus –whom Hope and Hermione had never met– gave a small smile at his youngest child's antics.

"I'm not accosting them," Astoria grumbled mutinously, but she took a few steps back –exaggerated enough to earn another look from her mother– until she was standing beside Daphne.

"Atreus, darling," Callista's fingers brushed against her husband's arm, "these are the lovely girls Daphne has made such fine friends of, Hermione Granger and Hope Potter."

Both girls inclined their heads respectfully.

"Daphne has told us so much about you," Atreus spoke with a rich voice that matched his appearance quite well. Like his wife and daughters, he had blonde hair, though a bit lighter, and his eyes were a kindly brown. "I hope I didn't intrude on your studies, I'm certain you are as busy as Daphne is with them, but I wanted to meet the two of you before the Winter Gala."

"We understand," Hope gave a respectful reply. "Don't worry, Lord Greengrass; our studies are complete for the day."

"Excellent," Atreus said with a smile before waving a hand towards the dining room, "come, join us for dinner."

"Daphne had them make something you'll eat," Astoria promised with glinting eyes and her elder sister nudged her shoulder, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been reading too much of Of Power and Prestige, a femHarryxTMR fic that was truly glorious but was sadly retired, so I felt the need to write a ball.
> 
> The Winter Gala is going to be a lot of fun to write.
> 
> Maybe we'll get the girls to Hogwarts by chapter seven, but I make no promises.
> 
> I need to write some Geope, so maybe I'll work on the next chapter of Looking Beyond...maybe...


	5. Winter Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the suggestions and advice, guys! I have come up with tentative names for the girls and their group name, so let me know what you think of:
> 
> The Muses
> 
> Hope: Runespeaker
> 
> Hermione: Silvertongue
> 
> Daphne: Frostbite
> 
> (Ironically, they all allude to the mouth, which might be a reference to my whole 'sometimes words cut deeper than a knife' thing)
> 
> And some new information about the Potter family came out today on Pottermore! What's really funny is there's a woman named Iolanthe Peverell in Harry's family tree, which ties into Decryption, because I had Eleni and Harry related to a woman named Iolanthe Hermia, which is hilarious…
> 
> But apparently James' parents weren't Charlus and Dorea Potter, but I like it better with them where they are, let's just say that Fleamont and Euphemia Potter were farther up in the family tree…
> 
> Someone mentioned how they thought the girls were acting a bit mature: I mentioned in the first chapter how self-sufficient Hope was, and these are three girls who pride themselves on their intelligence and their clever tongues. Hope and Daphne are taught to be articulate and Hermione picks up a few of their mannerisms over the years

October passed into November silently and with it came the chill that foreboded the coming of winter. Hope had always hated winter; she had never had enough warmth for the chills that seemed constant when she was living at the Dursleys.

Her clothes were always worn through by the time winter came around, but now she could cosy up to a fire in a knitted jumped.

Cosy up with her various pieces of homework and her wand tucked behind her ear, easy to grab, while Remus sat in the poufy armchair with glasses perched on his nose as he read from a small book that had been creased many times from being read so much.

If Hope noticed his presence, she gave no indication, wrinkling her nose in frustration.

"Maybe you should take a break," Remus advised, not looking up from the book in his hands.

"I need get this down before Hermione and Daphne come over tomorrow," Hope insisted, her eyes colouring grey in her aggravation.

They were down to a month until their final exams and, as luck would have it, Hope had gotten a bit of a block in her transfiguration magic.

"Hope…" Remus had put down his book in order to look at her fully. "At this rate you're going to overwork yourself."

"No, I'm  _not,"_  Hope refuted. She wasn't doing anywhere close to how much Hermione was, and the brunette was still somehow managing to get better grades than her in all their classes while still staying on top of her Muggle classes.

"Yes, you will," Remus insisted. "You can't learn magic all the time. You're young and your magical core is still developing. You will overexert yourself if you keep practicing."

Hope's eyes widened in surprise and her mouth formed a surprised, "Oh."

"Magic is like a muscle, Hope," Remus said, pulling himself out of his chair in order to stride towards his pseudo-niece who –after realizing practicing her magic was detrimental to her health– was wearing a perfectly petulant expression that made her seem almost younger in a way. "If you exercise it too much you will strain it."

"Great," Hope muttered under her breath, hunching her shoulders as she buried her face into the book she was holding.

"Why don't we go outside?" Remus suggested.

"Why?" Hope asked in a despondent manner.

"Because Mindy is running low on wood for the fire."

"I can't cut wood," Hope told him after a moment of incomprehension as to what wood had to do with anything.

"Well, you're going to learn," he told her, taking the book from her and snapping it shut and grasping her hands, pulling her up until she was standing. "Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty, Hope."

"I know that," she grumbled.

It wasn't like she hadn't done chores before. The only reason Petunia's flowers bloomed as much as they did was because Hope rather than her aunt, and Hope's nails had often had dirt caught under them, like the smears on her knees.

But she still conceded.

Hope's cheeks were pink from the chill in the air as she followed Remus outside.

The forest around Potter Manor was thick and eerie as usual. Hope was of the mind that for every tree that was cut down to fuel the fire, another grew in its place, since the trees never seemed to thin.

"I'm not sure I trust you with an axe," she commented as she pulled her gloves over her hands.

Remus ignored her as he shouldered the aforementioned weapon. "Come on, this way."

His leg was feeling better it seemed, given how he didn't need to walk with the aid of his cane today, but Hope knew from experience that the pain came and went.

They looped around to the side of the manor to where a shed was resting and after short work, Remus had her pushing a wheelbarrow through the leaves.

Sometimes Hope wondered who the master of the house was.

"You are going to cut down this tree," he said, directing her towards a tree that reached a good twenty feet above her head and had a trunk large around that Hope's arms couldn't completely wrap around.

Exasperation was clear as day on her face. "Please tell me you're  _joking."_

Hope wasn't one for upper body strength, lower was a different matter entirely, mostly because she had to high-tail away from Dudley whenever he wanted to make her life difficult at school (but only where they couldn't be seen by teachers, and whenever Hope had tried to report him, none of them ever seemed to believe her, given her rebellious nature).

"Nope," Remus said with green eyes twinkling in the sunlight, holding the axe out to her and Hope looked upon it with apprehension.

"How is this supposed to help me?" Hope asked, taking the axe from him and almost dropping it when she realized that it was heavier than it seemed.

"Well, if you aren't focusing on your magic, then you aren't overworking your magical core," Remus said not unkindly as he helped her grasp the handle with a better grip.

"And what better way to distract myself than cut down a tree," Hope said with just an appropriate amount of sarcasm in her tone that Remus was quick to disregard.

She lifted the axe and collided it against the trunk, but it hardly seemed to make much of a dent.

An hour later she came inside and collapsed on the couch.

"How was it?"

Remus smirked at the muffled growl that was her response.

* * *

"Remus is under the weather again," Hope said when Daphne and Hermione arrived for class. "So he said we should practice independently without him, and if we do well enough he won't quiz us over the last two chapters."

Daphne had been suspicious from the start concerning Remus' monthly illness and it hadn't taken much for Hermione to cotton on as well. They did have access to star charts after all and the scars on Remus' face were there for all to see.

"How is Remus?" Daphne asked innocently as Hope searched for something with her back to her friends.

"He had a bad night last night," Hope said evasively, "he says he'll be fine for tomorrow."

"We know he's a werewolf, you don't have to keep lying."

Hope's back stiffened and she turned around to glare heatedly at them both. "I'm not lying," she very nearly hissed. "Last night was bad and he's very ill."

But there was no denying that he was a werewolf.

"He's a werewolf," Hermione said, staring at Hope as if she was a curious piece of magic that she hadn't yet read over enough to understand.

"You say that like all werewolves are bad," Hope muttered, moving past them to head down the corridor, making for the direction of the kitchen.

"Well, the ones I've read about are," Hermione admitted and Hope scowled without even looking at her as she hugged the book tighter to her chest.

"It really doesn't bother you, does it?" Daphne asked with just a tiny bit of awe.

Hope had grown up in the Muggle world where werewolves were just legends and stories and  _in_ legends and stories as opposed to being something very real and very dangerous in the Wizarding world.

"No," she said swiftly, "it doesn't. Remus was one of my father's best friends and he's looked after me for months without anything bad happening." In the back of her mind she remembered the first full moon she had experienced with him at Potter Manor, but she pushed that thought aside quickly. "Remus isn't a bad person," she insisted, as if their silence was them agreeing that she was crazy for trusting a monster, "he's just got…a furry problem, is all."

It wasn't the best reasoning that she could come up with, but it didn't really matter when Hermione choked on her giggles and Daphne couldn't stop the sniggers that left her mouth.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as they jumped from one girl to the other.

"We don't actually have a problem with him," Daphne felt the need to point out, since it seemed that Hope thought they were insulting her pseudo-uncle.

"We like Remus," Hermione added.

Hope blinked at them in dawning comprehension, walking backwards just in time for her heel to catch on the carpet and send her tumbling to the ground, then her expression was quite comical.

"I was under the impression that the Wizarding world was quite prejudiced towards werewolves," she said, turning to look at Daphne.

"That is true," Daphne conceded, "but werewolves are only dangerous one night a month and my mother vouches for him, so he can't be all that bad."

"Besides," Hermione interjected, "werewolves were made by other people into what they are, its not their fault that they become what they are."

But Hope doubted that was a view that many shared as crawled up into a standing position, still clutching the book, which was an old favourite of Remus', C.S. Lewis'  _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_. "Oh," she said, her voice a bit meek once she realized she'd been angry with them for no reason.

"Yeah,  _oh_ ," Hermione said, her lips pursed, "you didn't honestly think we wouldn't like Remus after all that we've learned from him before we knew about the whole werewolf deal?"

"I hadn't really considered it," Hope said a bit frankly before reaching her destination in the kitchen at last while her friends gave sighs of exasperation and disbelief.

"What do you take us for?"

"Two people who should probably be working on schoolwork," Hope sang as she searched for the bed tray that Mindy had hidden after she'd taken one too many breakfasts in bed and had insisted that if Hope wanted to eat breakfast then she would be joining them at the table. "Ah, here it is!"

"What exactly are you doing?" Daphne asked, watching the green-eyed girl flit about the kitchen, pulling a spoon free from a drawer, and a bowl, and a thick cloth napkin.

"I'm bringing Remus lunch because his stomach was growling when I left him alone and that was almost an hour ago," Hope said absently before taking the bowl to the pan simmering over the stove.

When she took the cover off, a myriad of lovely scents filled the room, earthy vegetables and herbs that were enough to make anyone's mouth water.

Hope spooned steaming soup into the bowl before replacing the cover and looking at them both.

"Don't eat that," she warned, "Mindy put something in it to help Remus, so it'll probably knock you right out."

"That's a nice House-elf you've got there." Daphne called after her as she walked out with tray in hand, whistling faintly.

"Is that for me?" Remus asked her with a hoarse voice when she entered the room that had been darkened since his senses suffered from overstimulation for a number of hours after his transformation.

"From Mindy herself," Hope said with a smile and Remus moved himself up further up on the bed so she could set the tray easily on his lap.

"I'll have to thank her," Remus said, rubbing his eyes with one hand while Hope rested his book against the bedside table.

"Mindy's not happy unless she's mothering someone," Hope grinned.

"Mindy heard that," the House-elf uttered from the bathroom, but her words only served to widen Hope's smile as Mindy approached to replace the wet rag on his forehead.

"How is he?" Hope asked Mindy as Remus clumsily spooned soup into his mouth with a mumble of "I'm right here," that was ignored.

"Mister Remus has a fever," Mindy said with an air of reproach towards the man swathed in blankets. "What Mister Remus is needing is rest, Mistress."

Hope nodded in understanding.

"You don't need to worry about us," she added to Remus as he blinked hazily in her direction. "I'm sure we won't have any trouble with the lesson without me."

Remus hummed absently.

"And Hermione and Daphne have figured out that you're a werewolf," Hope said almost too fast for him to understand and in entirely one breath.

Predictably, Remus choked on his soup and required a hasty gulp in order to breathe again.

"What?" he demanded, his throat blistering from the hot soup.

"Don't worry," Hope said, waving a careless hand, "they're cool with it."

Remus just gaped at her like he had never heard of such a thing.

* * *

It was a few days later, on the Friday after they had finished their work for the night that Hermione drudged up enough courage to ask him about being a werewolf.

"Erm, Remus," Hermione said in clearly what she thought was a delicate voice, but it was very far from, "can you…can you tell us about being a werewolf?"

Remus, who had been in the process of taking a drink from his cup of tea, paused and set it down on the arm of the armchair and Hope looked up over her final revision to glance towards his face, but it was hard to see from where she was sitting and how Remus was positioned.

"You don't have to," Daphne added quickly, shooting a look towards Hermione, who just wasn't capable of quelling her desire to learn, even if it made some people uncomfortable.

"It's alright," Remus assured them, "I don't mind."

Or, if he did, he didn't show it.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure," he told them, his green eyes seeming almost amber in the light from the fire. "There is a potion that has been discovered recently, the Wolfsbane Potion, that makes a werewolf as safe as a werewolf could possibly be on a full moon, it allows one to keep their mind when they transform. However, I have neither the money nor the access to it…" His eyes grew distant and Hope wondered if he'd ever had the chance to take the potion.

"When I was younger, the transformations were terrible, and I was too young to understand why my parents desired to keep me as far from the public as it was possible," Remus said and Daphne was quick to notice the vein of bitterness that ran through his words. "My mother was a Muggle so she found it harder than my father to deal with what I had become." He smiled fondly as he brought up the woman who had raised him. "But she still believed I could find some way to combat the wolf within, even on full moons."

"Did you?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Sometimes it seems as though I have more control than he does," Remus conceded, "other days it seems I am as powerless as my first transformation…but my parents grew concerned that I would be denied admittance into Hogwarts given my… _condition_." His lips thinned as he said 'condition'. "Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school..."

Hope had to give it to Dumbledore, if there was one good thing that Albus Dumbledore had done, it was giving Remus a chance at going to school like the other Wizarding children. Though, there wasn't much Hope could compare to, given the lot she'd had in life because of his influence.

"On the grounds of the school there is a rather famous tree that everyone is told to never approach called the Whomping Willow…well, those rules only came into play after someone nearly lost an eye playing a game at trying to touch the tree's base."

Daphne's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and a glance to her friends told her that they were wearing similar expressions.

"The Whomping Willow was planted over a passage that led to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, perhaps you've heard of it?" he suggested.

Hermione's eyes went round. "The Shrieking Shack?" she repeated dubiously. "The most haunted building in Britain?"

Remus gave a few rusty chuckles at that. "I admit, the shack's reputation has been a bit embellished over the years, but yes, that Shrieking Shack, and, no, it wasn't haunted."

He didn't elaborate on the issue, so Hope supposed that he was coming back to it at a later point in the explanation.

"Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous, but that didn't make it any easier." Remus grimaced as he leaned back in his chair, slumping against the cushions.

"In those days my transformations were some of the worst I've experienced, mostly because I was still growing, and it is always very painful to turn into a werewolf…I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it..."

Daphne's eyes traced over the scars that were clear on his face, wondering if those were his work or the werewolf who had turned him and the thought made her ill.

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life," Remus added, once he saw the looks the three girls were wearing and how Hermione was hugging a plush pillow to her chest. "For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black...Peter Pettigrew...and, of course, James Potter."

Hope smiled widely at that.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her...I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you girls, worked out the truth..."

"Probably because they are all pretty bad excuses," Daphne snorted.

"Yes, well, I was younger at the time and very desperate," Remus said sheepishly, making the girls laugh for good measure. "But they did something that I did not expect when they found out the truth. They didn't desert me, and that would have been more than enough if they hadn't done something that made my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life."

"How did they do that?" Hermione asked, drawing the pillow down so she could speak.

"They became Animagi."

" _Oh!"_  Daphne said with understanding, but Hope and Hermione were a bit lost, not familiar with the term Animagi. "Of  _course!_  Animagi are witches and wizards that can transform themselves into an animal and werewolves are only a threat to humans," she added for the girls' benefit.

"Ah," came the dawning realization that earned them a half-smile.

"It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it," Remus said, nodding towards Hope as he spoke, "your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong –one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will.

"They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed...Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them. But there was one problem."

"What was it?" Hope asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

"Well, we were reckless and thoughtless at that age," Remus said and Hope was surprised, given the cautious nature he now possessed, "and highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did…after awhile we even gifted each other nicknames that no one save for ourselves new the meanings behind. Sirius was Padfoot, Peter, Wormtail, and James was Prongs while I was Moony."

"That's original," Daphne sniggered, and Hope pushed her on her side with her foot.

"But what would have happened if they hadn't been able to keep you in check?" Hermione asked instead, staring at him with eyes as wide as when he had first begun his tale. "What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

The smile fell from Remus' lips. "A thought that still haunts me," he spoke with a weight in his voice. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, foolish – carried away with our own cleverness…I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course... he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure."

He pulled himself up out of the armchair with a low groan.

"Now, I think I'm going to retire for the evening," he said, stifling a yawn with ease. "You girls try not to stay up too late, you've got a Transfiguration and a History of Magic exam in the morning."

"Night, Remus," Hope said as he bent to kiss the top of her head in a fatherly gesture than she was sure her own father would have done for her if he was still alive.

"You ever think Remus gets the short end of the stick, being a werewolf?" Daphne asked them once he'd vacated the room.

"All the time," Hope grumbled.

* * *

Manor had always been a relative term when speaking concerning Potter Manor, it seemed almost too small a term, but any larger and Hope would have to call it a castle, which it most certainly wasn't.

Hope's poplar wand was a familiar warmth as its lit tip illuminated the dark hallway that was blocked by a thick curtain.

Hope and Remus didn't use all the rooms, obviously, Potter Manor was so large that it simply wasn't possible, and these rooms were the farthest from the staircase.

Only someone who didn't want to be close to the door would want to sleep down here.

Hope drew the curtain back quickly to expose the corridor, as short as it was, as if expecting there to be something behind it, but there was not.

A sigh left her lips, but it wasn't as though she had been anticipating something like a bat flapping down over her face, disturbed from its slumber by her jerking the curtain.

Honestly, Hope should have probably been studying as opposed to investigating her own home, as their exams were only a week away now, but Hope was trying not to overload her brain, and had decided to go exploring in Potter Manor, as a great deal of the manor was untouched even since Hope had taken up residence within.

The light of her wand shone down over a polished plaque on one room's door with the name James inscribed into it.

This was her father's room, and Hope lifted a hand to trace over the letters.

She could imagine her father as Remus described him, rebellious enough to demand a room far from his parents, but not on the completely opposite end of the house, which showed he didn't actually mind being close to them.

There was a small sign tacked onto the door above the name.

_Absolutely no one allowed inside! It declared cheerfully. Except Padfoot! Keep out! Pranking Genius within!_

Hope wasn't sure how long she stood there looking at her father's handwriting, so very different from her own.

She could have entered the room, there was nothing stopping her; everything in Potter Manor belonged solely to her and the room's owner was long dead.

But she couldn't quite bring herself to turn the knob of the door.

Hope drew her hand away from the door with a sigh. Maybe she was afraid of finding something within? Maybe she was afraid of finding that he was very different than Remus had described him; a prankster with a hatred for anything Dark.

She wasn't sure they were really alike…

A low sigh parted from her lips as she ducked back, bouncing on the balls of her feet, a movement that caused her to catch sight of a second name plaque on the room beside his, one that bore the name Sirius.

Hope frowned. There it was again, the unknown Sirius making another appearance.

Could someone who lived in the room beside her father really been instrumental in his death?

He too had a sign tacked onto the door:  _Only admittance: Prongs! On mischief business!_

The similar signs made Hope's lips curl upwards despite the confusion she still felt about the circumstances surrounding her parents' deaths and her godfather's imprisonment.

And then she grasped the door's knob and much it open as the hinges gave a high squeak, used to being closed more often than being open.

She flipped on the light switch and stepped into the room.

It was a mess, clearly belonging to that of a teenage boy in a rush to pack.

The wall was covered with a banner of red and gold with the Gryffindor seal and an assortment of enchanted pictures and newspaper clippings pasted to the wall.

Most of the newspaper clippings concerned a Quidditch –a magical game that was played in the air on broomsticks involving four balls that seemed a bit odd to Hope– team from Ireland that Sirius Black had apparently been a fan of before his imprisonment, but other than that, the pictures seemed to be centred on him and his friends.

Most of them involved his with an arm thrown over the shoulders of Hope's father, each grinning widely with Remus and Peter.

There was one in which he appeared to be swooning dramatically in the younger Remus' arms and the unenthused expression on Remus' face was what made it perfect.

The four friends were wearing their graduation robes in one of the last images he must have stuck to the wall, given their ages.

Remus was laughing and Peter's shoulders were shaking while Sirius kept falling in and out of the picture's edge and her father was bracing his hands on his knees, laughing too hard to remain standing.

Hope sat down on the bed, coughing when the action caused a small cloud of dust to rise up from the bed.

It was clear that Sirius Black had been proud of his House, given the sheer amount of red and gold and lions that were thrown around the room; on the walls, on the bed, against the small book shelf…

" _Only one person knew where they were, and that was their Secret-Keeper, Sirius Black,"_  that was what Remus had said, but something about it made Hope frown.

If her parents knew they were going to be hunted, wouldn't her father's best friend been a bit obvious?

Maybe it was just Hope, but a Secret-Keeper didn't sound like someone you wanted people to know about instantly if you were on the run.

But it hardly mattered now, did it? Her parents were dead and Sirius Black was in prison, and that was that.

Hope tangled her fingers briefly in her hair before her eyes caught sight of a book on the floor that appeared to have fallen from the shelf, landing half-open on the floor.

She bent to lift it up, dusting off its cover to read the title.

 _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ …well, that could be potentially interesting.

* * *

Hope's face was numb as she hacked the axe against the tree that Remus had set her before more than a month previously.

She had given up after not giving much of an effort, she was woman enough to admit that, and Hope didn't really even know why she was bothering when her exams were in two days.

She should probably be doing some last minute studying, but Remus was right about not overworking herself; it would only bring more harm than good.

You wouldn't think that swinging an axe into a tree was as hard as it was, but it had made Hope's muscles burn without much effort. Maybe it had more to do that Hope was very weak in physical activities.

She had always been the last to be picked in gym class, and the only thing she was seemed to be good at during her time in Muggle school was running away, mostly with Dudley and his cronies hot on her trail.

Upper body strength had never really been her forte, besides, she wasn't a physically violent person, but that didn't mean that she wasn't willing to tear into someone verbally.

Hermione had told her she had a razor sharp tongue that needed to be kept in check, and Hope had responded that Hermione spoke without tact.

"Touché," Hermione had conceded.

Hope gritted her teeth as the axe connected with the tree's trunk again.

Just three more days and she'd have a break for two weeks before they started second year work.

A clump of snow fell on Hope's head and her shoulders drew upwards as she grimaced from the icy cold.

This was the reason people didn't like winter…snow falling on poor unsuspecting people.

* * *

"Can you read this to me?" Hope asked Remus, holding the book out to the werewolf, holding it so that it almost seemed to be a shield in front of her.

They seemed to alternate between reading each other books, but the books they usually read were of the Tolkien and C.S. Lewis variety (granted, the pair only had two books to read each other in total).

Remus smiled and patted the spot on the couch beside him. "Sure, Hope, come and sit."

Hope brightened as she curled up next to Remus, pulling the blankets over her legs as she did so, forfeiting the book to Remus.

"Which story do you want me to read?" he asked her once she'd gotten herself situated.

"The Tale of Three Brothers," Hope said automatically and Remus thumbed through the pages until he reached the proper page.

 _"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight,"_  he began.  _"In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across... However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure."_  His voice had grown steadily darker as he tried to bring the story to life with his voice, but Hope merely grinned and rolled her eyes again for good measure.

"Don't hurt yourself," she said in dry amusement, and Remus couldn't silence a laugh.

 _"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him."_  Hope smiled lightly at that, the idea of being cleverer than Death.

 _"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother. Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead."_  Hope's black stone ring felt heavy on her hand, but she dismissed that as her sleepiness catching up with her.

 _"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."_ _Remus wondered if Hope knew that her father had possessed a similar cloak to the one in the story._

" _Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination._   _The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible."_

Because when had anyone's boastful nature in stories ever ended well?

" _That very night,"_ Remus read _, "another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat._   _And so Death took the first brother for his own._

It seemed a rather morbid choice of a fairytale to be read before bed, Remus privately thought, but Hope was also a girl that was periodically visited by Death himself, so he couldn't really judge.

" _Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him._

 _Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her._   _And so Death took the second brother for his own."_

Hope leaned her head against Remus' shoulder and he was sure she was nearly asleep now, but the tale was almost done.

" _But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."_

* * *

Exam day arrived and Hermione was by far the worst of the three.

Her hair was more frizzy than usual and her eyes had taken on a wild quality that Hope had previously thought she would never possess. Hermione was, after all, the one among them with the coolest head.

"What if I didn't study enough?" Hermione was speaking so fast that it was a little difficult for Hope and Daphne to keep up with her. "I should've studied  _more!"_

The practical exams were first and that was probably what was making Hermione freak out the most; her forte was written work as opposed to application, whereas the other two were mostly the opposite.

"Deep breaths," Hope advised, as it seemed as though the brunette wasn't taking in enough oxygen.

"I don't  _need—"_

"Trust me," Daphne said flatly, "you  _do."_

Hermione scowled at them fiercely. "Just because you two aren't worried about your exams doesn't mean that I'm going to stop."

"What makes you think we aren't worried?" Hope asked, flummoxed. "We're just not showing it as obviously as you…probably because we know we need air to breathe."

"I hate both of you," Hermione muttered.

"No, you don't," Daphne said with a wide grin.

The practical exams were rather simple, Hope soon discovered, but that might have had something to do with the fact that they were for witches and wizards in first year and as they went on, the practical exams would probably get harder and harder.

Making a pineapple tap dance across a desk, turning a mouse into a pin cushion, implementing the proper use of the Knockback Jinx, displaying the proper way to plant a Puffapod, labelling a star chart, and making a Forgetful Potion from memory alone were the different types of practicals the girls had to do over the course of a few hours.

It sounded relatively simple, but Hope had completely blanked on the Forgetful Potion, which was a bit ironic, given the potion itself. She'd barely remembered the proper amount of measurements for the ingredients, and she wasn't positive the potion had turned out completely right, but that was neither here nor there.

The written exam, however, wasn't a terrible as Hope had been considering, though they still seemed to take the entire day (apparently they were more drawn out when you had a whole year to prepare for them, but no such luck).

History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts were by far the easiest, Hope discovered as she siphoned the excess ink off her quill and pulled History of Magic's essay towards herself:

_State the accomplishments of notable historical magical figures: Gaspard Shingleton, Emeric the Evil, Uric the Oddball, and Elfric the Eager._

This was a rather simple question if you asked Hope.

_Gaspard Shingleton was the wizard who invented the Self-Stirring Cauldron, Emeric the Evil terrorized South England, claiming to be a master of Death (somehow, that seemed rather unlikely to Hope when she'd read the passage), before he was killed in a duel with Egbert the Egregious, Uric the Oddball had no real accomplishments other than being considered the strangest wizard in history for his eccentric behavior, and Elfric the Eager was not a wizard, but a goblin who was involved in a revolt against the wand-carrying population of Ireland who was famous for winning his kind a number of rights they had been denied before..._

By the time that Hope had finished her exams, Hermione was still hard at work, but Daphne had been finished for roughly twenty minutes.

Hope had fingers stained with ink and a smudge on her cheek as she handed her parchments over to Remus before departing the room quietly to join Daphne waiting silently, clearly not trying to think too hard about how she'd done.

"If I fail this, I will not be pleased," Daphne told her when she plopped down on the cushions beside her.

"Then you probably didn't fail."

"Don't say that," Daphne groaned, "Because now it's all I can think about."

"Oops," Hope grimaced.

Hermione came out soon after, wringing her hands nervously and looking as pale as she had been when she arrived. Hope couldn't be sure if she thought she'd done well or not, given the state of her, so she opted to not ask, instead choosing to wait a bit impatiently for Remus to finish grading their work and give them the results.

And Hope could honestly say she was a bit pleased with her results. She only earned two O's, while Hermione and Daphne earned three, and she alone earned one A in Potions, but she couldn't help but be glad of how well she'd done.

* * *

"I'm still not sure how I feel about you being around families of Death Eaters," Remus called, clicking his tongue as Hope disappeared behind the drawn screen with the dress that Mindy had held out to her.

"Well, I'm going to see them at some point, aren't I?" Hope queried from beyond. "What's the phrase? Know your enemies?"

"Hope," Remus reproached, "you are ten years old."

Hope peeked her head around the side, a curtain of dark curls tumbling over her shoulders. "And?" she demanded. "Age doesn't have anything to do with it, Daphne's my age and she knows more about politics than me."

"That's not necessarily a good thing," Remus reminded her, "and Daphne's grown up with the kind of environment that you and Hermione are walking into; she knows how to handle it better."

A noise of annoyance passed Hope's lips, but she offered no reply, focusing instead on pulling the dress on over her head before warning: "And don't you dare laugh, Remus!"

Of course, that wasn't really his style, but he didn't have time to inform her of that before Hope stepped out from behind the shade of the dressing screen.

She looked lovely.

The dress was a navy blue, as dark as the night sky without being black, with a shimmery material over it that held small silver stars sewn in.

It couldn't have been said that the dress didn't suit her, what with her love for stargazing. And Remus would have been hard pressed to find a different dress that suited her just as well.

Hope's fingers fluttered over the dress, smoothing down the frown and avoiding his eyes.

"It seems a little big," she mumbled a bit awkwardly.

"I'm sure that's the way it's supposed to be, Hope," Remus responded, smiling kindly. "You look very pretty."

"Thanks," Hope said, almost shyly, before moving to perch on the edge of her bed as Mindy stood atop the mattress behind her, deft fingers styling Hope's thick dark hair into a crown braid, while Hope clasped a simple silver chain necklace around her throat (evidently, her great-grandmother Euphemia had a love for simplistic jewellery) and pull a coiled snake bracelet around one wrist which seemed to move as Hope's fingers twitched.

You would have never thought that Hope had been raised a Muggle if you looked at her now.

"All done, Mistress," Mindy said, smiling at Hope as she pulled herself upright, the material of the skirt fluttering from the quick move.

"Thank you, Mindy," Hope said before batting her eyes in an exaggerated motion towards Remus. "I will be the talk of the gala, imagine the last of Slytherin's noble house being in attendance!"

Remus, who had never known James' bloodline (though he had mistakenly considered the thought that he might've been related to Godric Gryffindor himself, given his old family ties and stanch Gryffindor beliefs), found himself openly gaping at her.

Hope laughed light and cheerful, and it was the same laugh that belonged to Elpis Slytherin.

* * *

Hermione's mother had gushed over how pretty her little girl was becoming and it was enough to make her face as radiant as a sunset, and it didn't go well with the pretty dress she was wearing.

One thing Hermione knew very well was that she was not a girly-girl, so to speak. She spent more time with her nose in a book than focused on her appearance, other than making sure she was clean and looking as though she didn't just wake up from a deep slumber.

Daphne was probably the one of the three that acted the most like a girl, or, a proper girl, at the least. Daphne who always had earrings dangling from her lobes and fingernails perfectly smooth, with her hair plaited in its typical golden French twist.

Hermione often felt like the odd one out when compared with Hope and Daphne, the daughters of Lords, when Hermione was just the daughter of Dentists, but they never let her feel like that for long.

She learned Pure-blood etiquette beside Hope, from Mindy no less! Whether she wanted to learn or not, the House-elf had said, it was a standard way to politely speak to individuals, and anyone should know how to do that (she'd said it using different terms, but the overall intent was the same).

But Hermione still didn't feel quite so comfortable with her feet strapped into short heels, wearing her bushy hair in controlled curls, with a blue dress that swept across the ground just barely.

It was the most beautiful thing Hermione had ever seen and she had tried to force it back on Hope when she'd given it to her, only to eventually relent because "That shade of blue isn't really my colour, besides, you can think of it as part of your Christmas present!"

The sleeves were short around her elbows and made of lace, like the bodice, but past that, the skirt was made of a soft and flowing material.

It made Hermione feel like she was the prettiest girl in the room, just for a few moments.

But her smile ruined the whole image.

"Miss Hermione," Mindy squeaked, descending the stairs after seeing too her mistress after she'd picked up Hermione. "Mistress is almost finished."

Hermione took that to mean that Remus was getting one last lecture in.

"Erm, Mindy? Could…could you do me a favour?" she asked, stuttering as she twisted her fingers together.

"Favour, Miss?" Mindy asked, fixing her large blue eyes on Hermione in an almost unnerving stare that Hope had often been on the receiving end.

Not five minutes later she was holding a mirror as Mindy worked her magic, making her teeth an appropriate size, with the front ones not as large as they had previously been.

She was sure her parents wouldn't approve, being Dentists, but Hermione had been made fun of for her smile for as long as she could remember.

And when she smiled at Hope once she'd finished, Hope's eyes had widened in surprise.

* * *

Daphne, of course, looked as lovely as ever.

Her dress was white and patterned with gold and the high bun on her head gave off the impression that it had been done haphazardly, but Daphne pulled it off well, even with her younger sister hanging off her hand as she waved her two friends closer.

Astoria was as cut as a button with a small silver dress that would make any patron coo over her.

The Gala was held in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic that neither Hope nor Hermione had ever stepped foot in and when they arrived via Mindy they were very impressed.

"This is only the Atrium?" Hermione breathed in astonishment as she looked around in awe.

The hall –if it could be called that– was very large and seemed to expand with every new person that arrived to the Gala, perhaps it was magic, perhaps it was merely Hope's perception. They tilted their heads skyward to see the blue-painted ceiling over which unfamiliar golden symbols moved. There were more than several fireplaces, but not in the main area, which was circular, making Hope think strangely of King Arthur's Round Table (she blamed the books on Arthurian legend she'd taken to reading ever since she'd discovered that Merlin had indeed been a real person).

"Pretty nice, right?" Daphne said with a grin, dragging Astoria with her as she greeted her friends.

There was transfigured false-ice on the walls and icicles and snowflakes moving, enchanted, across the air high above their heads.

"Well, I've never been to a gala before, so I couldn't really say," Hope said as diplomatically as she could manage.

"I went to one once," Hermione admitted, "but it was more of a formal meeting place for those in the medical field." She wrinkled her nose at the memory of it.

"Not a fan?" Daphne guessed.

Hermione shrugged. "I guess you could say it wasn't really my cup of tea."

Astoria giggled and Hope couldn't stop her own snort that Daphne quickly replicated.

"Come on, Father told me to find him once the two of you showed up."

Hermione looped her arm around Hope's as they followed after their friend, mostly because they actually couldn't tell which head of blonde hair belonged to Atreus Greengrass in the sea of dark-haired individuals.

For the first time in a long time, Hope keenly felt just how small she was, compared to everyone else in the room. Sure, Remus was tall, but he was usually the only tall person she dealt with on a daily basis, and Hope, Hermione, and Daphne were all of similar heights so Hope didn't have to lean her head back in order to look at their faces.

The Greengrasses were speaking to another blonde-haired couple, but their hair was far lighter than Atreus and Callista's. They were a pretty couple, taking them at face value only, with sharp cheekbones and pointed chins, and the child with them –about Hope's own age, she'd wager– clearly had inherited his looks from them.

"Ah, Daphne, Astoria, there you are," Atreus drew his daughters forward, "I'm sure you remember Lord and Lady Malfoy? And their son?"

"Of course," Daphne said primly and she and her sister curtsied effortlessly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lord and Lady Malfoy, Heir Malfoy."

Heir Malfoy barely blinked but Hope had the uncomfortable feeling that he didn't care much for Daphne or her family. The Greengrasses were one of the well off ancient family lines, like many in the room, as she had been informed before their arrival, but their money was far dwarfed by the fortune of that of the Malfoy family.

Many would consider a match with the Malfoy family to be an advantageous one, and it was clear that Atreus and Callista were considering the possibility of one day one of their children bonding with Heir Malfoy. Though the Greengrasses would probably never admit it, because they preferred to leave marriage up to choice and love rather than what was most advantageous.

The fact that Lord Malfoy had once been a Death Eater serving under Voldemort at the time of his death (Hope knew from the many books that covered the subject, most predominantly _, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ ) was perhaps the only thing that drew Atreus short.

"And who are your charming companions, Heir Greengrass?" the Lady Malfoy inquired, pale eyes glancing over Daphne's friends with something that could have been considered casual interest to some but Hope caught the calculating glint in her eye.

Hope stepped forward, spine straight, shoulders back, and head held high.

"I am Elpis Slytherin," Hope declared, seeming unaware of the attention she had garnered for such words. "Last of the Slytherin Line."

Daphne knew what the words meant, as stunned as she was by the admission. Of all the Pure-blood propriety they had discussed, Hope's lineage had never come up, mostly because Daphne had always known just what family she was an heir of.

Hermione had no idea the significance of the words spoken, but the name Slytherin was one she had read countless times within the book Hope had gifted her,  _Hogwarts, A History_. Salazar Slytherin, one of the esteemed four founders of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

But there were many negative tales within concerning Salazar Slytherin, while painting the other three in a kinder light (which by itself was a bit annoying, but to the victors go the spoils, as the saying was).

And the look the Malfoys wore as they looked upon her was enough to twist a slight smile upon her lips.

* * *

The two girls were obviously not of the Greengrass family, judging by their features alone.

The brunette had an earthy quality to her, in the chestnut of her eyes and the soft brown of her hair, whereas her dark-haired companion couldn't have been more different.

Thick dark plaited hair circled around her head and green eyes scrutinized her. The brunette didn't have the same sharp features as the girl with green eyes, but they both were every bit as pretty as young Heir Greengrass.

And the declaration didn't stop short of shocking Lady Narcissa Malfoy all the way down to her slender heels.

"I am Elpis Slytherin. Last of the Slytherin Line." The eyes held a green fire, the likes of which Narcissa had not seen in many years.

"This is my loyal friend, Hermione Granger," Hope added, gesturing a hand towards Hermione as Heir Malfoy openly gaped at her and the Greengrasses shared a look over her head.

The lack of a title before the girl's name was not missed to Narcissa, and neither to Lucius.

"You are Muggle-born, are you not?" he inquired of the girl, eyes narrowing with distaste. It was enough to make Narcissa sigh.

It was true that her husband –and by extension, her son– had certain standards, and disapproval of those with magic born to Muggles was something Abraxas Malfoy had ingrained in his son at a very young age.

But Narcissa knew that there were many Muggle-borns that didn't deserve the maltreatment that many Pure-bloods held towards them.

"I am," Hermione said, swallowing thickly, her arm tightening over Hope's.

Lucius' lip curled and Hope's gaze grew cold.

"Heir Slytherin," Narcissa spoke with a mother's kindness, "are you here with family or friends?"

Green eyes flickered towards her. "My parents were killed when I was very small, Lady Malfoy," she answered, "I am here, along with Hermione, as a guest to Heir Greengrass."

"You have our condolences for your late loss," Lucius said smoothly and Narcissa could just imagine him considering what the family name of Slytherin could do for the Malfoys, but she was just a girl.

"Thank you," Hope said stiffly before breathing in deeply and allowing a smile to warm over her face as she looked to Narcissa once more. "I understand that you and I are family, Lady Malfoy, through our shared Black blood."

Narcissa spared the child a smile of her own. "It seems we might be…you have the colouring of a Black more than I, it seems, Heir Slytherin."

That earned her a small laugh from the child in question. "Well, my grandmother Dorea was not very dark-haired, if old family records are to be believed."

Narcissa had learned about the Black family ties very early in her life, as was the requirement for Pure-blood children, and she knew very well that the Dorea Black she was speaking of was the same that had married Charlus Potter and had birthed James Potter, the very same man who had sired Hope Potter, the famed Girl-Who-Lived.

She whispered a request to her husband to leave her with Heir Slytherin for a few moments and then it was just the two of them, with Hermione being pulled away by Daphne.

"I was under the impression that you were being raised by Muggles, Heir Potter," she said her true name quietly.

Hope didn't even blink.

"I was," she said, "but we had…differences of opinion." That was putting it mildly. "I left a few months back, a few weeks after I turned ten."

Narcissa's features smoothed. "I see," she said. "And now?"

"I am well cared for," Hope spun her words carefully.

Indeed, her cheeks shone with health and it was clear that she was much healthier than when she had first arrived at Potter Manor with the bones of her ribs being just slightly visible when she disrobed.

"I just passed my first year of magical schooling," she added with a bit of pride that Narcissa knew instantly to not be faked.

"Very impressive," Narcissa gave her a maternal smile that made a small flush spread across Hope's cheeks. "Your parents would be very pleased."

Narcissa had known Lily far better than James, but even then she hadn't known them very well. But anyone would have been pleased by their child excelling in study the year before they were due to attend school.

"So I've heard," Hope said, ducking her head slightly, twisting the serpent bracelet around her arm.

"I take it that Elpis Slytherin is an ancestral name," Narcissa added, eyes following the movement of the girl's hands.

"It is," Hope agreed. "My…caretaker had thought it best that I didn't speak my birth name in a setting such as this."

Unease filtered through her expression and Narcissa could understand her desire to remain an unknown, at least as she really was. Only a hint of the tell-tale lightning-bolt scar on her forehead was visible through her thick fringe.

Somehow, Hope didn't quite know how exactly hours later, Narcissa managed to convince the young heiress to join her for tea at Malfoy Manor ("Whenever you are free," Narcissa had said with a sweet smile that left Hope wondering if it was impolite to refuse). It was such a Slytherin tactic that Hope couldn't feel anything but grudging respect for the woman.

When she rejoined her friends, there was a boy with brown hair striding away from Hermione angrily and Hermione seemed a bit at a loss.

"I just need to stay away from people," Hermione decided despondently as Hope joined them.

"Don't be ridiculous," Daphne scoffed, "you just need to manage your tendency to blurt things out. You're the only one of us that's a people person; we need you to bring up the group average."

Hermione gave her a frown but Hope laughed.

"I guess we know what to do if we run into any more bigots," Hope said with a grin.

"Unleash Hermione on them and hope for the best?" Daphne offered, eyes glinting.

Hermione jabbed them both in the side with her elbows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's an early introduction of the Malfoys! This was mostly about Narcissa than Draco or Lucius, and I like the idea of Narcissa being a positive influence, considering how Lucius is.
> 
> Possibly there is potential for Draco not being a complete bad guy in this fic, but we'll have to wait and see.
> 
> Several of you mentioned the desire to read the femHarry/TMR fic that's been taken off FFnet. It really is a beautiful fic in how they describe things, I'm not a fan of the pairing, but really somehow it works, and it's the only fic of the pairing that I would read for it. I linked the fic to my tumblr, so you can find it there, with the girls' dresses: greygryffindor . tumblr . com
> 
> I can't wait for the girls to go to Hogwarts, that'll be so much fun to write, but alas, there's at least a chapter and a half before that...


	6. Yuletide at Potter Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO THIS IS NOT A FEMSLASH FIC AND I CANNOT BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR WHAT KIND OF COMMUNITIES THIS FIC IS PLACED IN! I TOLD THEM TO REMOVE IT, BUT HERE WE STILL ARE!
> 
> To all you readers suffering from Geope withdrawl…I'm sorry! But Geope isn't going to show up in this fic until GoF, well, I should say full on Geope won't happen until then, but I'm sure you'll get some subtext. Loads of subtext, knowing me ;)
> 
> To one person: no, Hope is only the descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Adding Gryffindor to the mix would make me gag to be honest.
> 
> The reason I reference Looking Beyond and Decryption in my author's notes is because they are both HP fics I've written. Looking Beyond was actually the fic from which Serpent Tongue was born after so many people liked the idea. There are references that you'll only catch if you've read Looking Beyond, and a scarce few if you've read Decryption. They aren't really important, if you're a first time reader, but it makes the story make a little more sense. :)
> 
> TheAsterousAuthor: Yes, there are nine Muses, but the Muses inspire, so I like the idea of Fred and George say that 'the Muses inspired this prank item' when they get the shop up and running. :)
> 
> Overall, I loved all of your reviews! Keep them coming! They're all really inspiring!

"Who was the guy?" Hope asked, nodding off towards the boy that Hermione had apparently angered.

"Heir Marcus Flint," Daphne said automatically, squinting her eyes so they were almost shut, looking off in the direction that the older boy had strode off in. "I don't think he took kindly to her pointing out that the number of Muggle-borns in the Ministry currently outnumber the Pure-bloods."

Hope stared at Hermione, making the brown-eyed girl flush predictably. "Where did you even find that stuff out?"

"A book," Hermione said without much thought. "It listed all kinds of statistics."

"Of  _course_  it did," Hope smirked.

"Did you have a nice conversation with Lady Malfoy?" Daphne asked sweetly, but Hope saw right through it. However, she didn't bother to comment on it.

"I did," Hope said, "she's invited me to tea whenever I'm free…though it seems like that's going to be near the end of June, at the rate we're going at."

" _Please!"_  Daphne released an un-ladylike snort. "No one's going at the rate we're going at!"

"Probably because they're sane," Hermione felt the need to point out, smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt.

"Well, no one's denying our insanity," Hope interjected. "But on the plus side, we will at least be out of school two years earlier than our age-mates."

"True," Daphne conceded.

"Do you think champagne tastes any good?" Hermione interjected suddenly, eyes falling to the tray that was being carried past by a man in white robes.

Hope's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and Daphne gaped at her. "What? I'm just curious, everyone's drinking it."

That was true. Nearly everyone in the girls' line of sight was holding a champagne flute, which was to say all the adults and none of the children (which was understandable).

Daphne's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Maybe they make it have a good taste, 'cause I haven't heard a lot about champagne tasting good."

Astoria was dancing between people to reach her old sister, evidently she'd gone with her parents when they parted.

"So, tea at Malfoy Manor, that'll be fun," Daphne said once Astoria grasped her hand, swinging their linked hands together in a wide circle. "But you know the family is full of bigots, right?"

"I might have gathered that by how they responded to Hermione being a Muggle-born," Hope commented wryly.

Hermione twisted her hands a bit uncomfortably. It might have been a nice evening if she hadn't decided to come along; galas weren't for a daughter of dentists. It was clear that many people found her presence annoying and irritating.

"Oi, stop that," Daphne nudged her ankle with the toe of her shoe. "There's nothing wrong with being a Muggle-born."

"Mum was a Muggle-born," Hope agreed.

"I know," Hermione said, looking from one friend to the other, "it's just…the people here don't really seem all that nice."

"Some of them aren't, well, at least they don't have good reputations from what Father's said," Daphne frowned thoughtfully.

"Like the Lestranges," Astoria piped up. "And the Rookwoods."

"Yeah, but they're all in prison," Daphne pointed out. "I was thinking more of the Parkinsons and Crabbes and Goyles, I heard rumours about them."

"Giving bribes to the Ministry in order to keep out of prison?" Hope offered with an arched eyebrow.

"It does seem to be the typical for Death Eaters, doesn't it?" Daphne mused. "Mother thinks it lucky that Sirius Black was caught on November 1, or they wouldn't have been able to get away free."

Hope's eyebrows creased together as she thought about that. So, Sirius Black's arrest must have been big news…

"I'd be careful with the Malfoys, Hope."

Hope blinked in surprise as Atreus Greengrass, who had apparently just rejoined the girls with his lovely wife on his arm, leaned down so that their heads were level.

"Why's that?" Hope asked curiously.

"Lord Malfoy was in the Dark Lord's inner circle," Atreus spoke with a hint of warning in his voice. "Be careful of what you say in his presence."

Hope nodded seriously.

Lord Malfoy had come off a bit like a leech to her, despite how little she had spoken to him, and she had seen a definite gleam in his eye when she'd uttered her family name (well, one of them). It made her skin crawl…

* * *

There was a soft hum of conversation around them. Narcissa had gently prodded Draco in the direction of the sweet table, which he went towards with great reluctance.

"Do you believe her?" Lucius asked her.

"Concerning what?" Narcissa asked with slight evasion, curling her hand around her husband's arm.

Grey eyes scrutinized her. "Being the Heir to the Slytherin Family."

 _Ah_ , Narcissa thought. "Yes," she spoke aloud, "I do."

"She could be very good for the family," Lucius hinted.

"Dear Husband," Narcissa's eyes glittered, "are you trying to set our son up with Heir Slytherin?"

Lucius neither confirmed nor denied that fact.

* * *

Night had long since fallen when Hope returned to Potter Manor, holding her short heels caught up in her fingers.

Remus had been asleep by the fire, one hand still clutching his copy of  _the Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe_ , but he jolted suddenly awake when Mindy returned with her mistress in tow.

"How'd it go?" Remus asked as Hope hid a wide yawn behind her hand.

" _Exhausting."_  Hope flopped back onto the couch even as Mindy gave a small noise of disapproval, no doubt having to do with Hope wrinkling her lovely dress. "There are lots of people at galas, did you know that?"

"I've never been much of a partier," Remus replied with a small smile. "That was always James and Sirius' thing."

Hope splayed and curled her toes, but that did nothing to ease the ache they currently felt.

"Lady Malfoy wants me to join her for tea 'whenever I am free'," Hope said, raising her fingers to indicate the witch's exact quote.

"Lady Malfoy as in Narcissa Malfoy?" Remus inquired, a frown brushing across his lips as he remembered the slender blonde from the Black family.

"Yes, why?"

Remus couldn't remember an instance where Narcissa was actually as cruel as her husband, and he could recall seeing her walking away from Lily a few times with her homework tucked in her arms.

"I know she's married to a Death Eater," Hope added quickly, waving a careless hand as she did so.

"I would have thought that that would have been a major turnoff for you," Remus responded with a bit of surprise.

Of course, Hope hated Death Eaters. She could find no reason to give those who followed a man such as Voldemort a single kind thought or even a benefit of the doubt. Death Eaters caused more chaos than Voldemort himself, if the accounts in books concerning the First Wizarding War were to be believed. The Dark Mark incited a violent anger within herself and she had seen a hint of it when Lucius Malfoy's arm of his robes had ridden up.

"The Death Eater is," Hope conceded, "but his wife isn't…she's a Black and so am I."

Remus wondered how far she would go for her family, whether or not the relation was as small as it was between herself and Narcissa Malfoy. But, then again, it wasn't as though she had a bad head on her shoulders.

"I'm going to go and head up to bed," Hope decided, stifling another wide yawn, "G'night."

"Night," Remus called after her as Hope took the steps two at a time, despite the ache in her heels from the shoes she'd been wearing all night.

She would have liked nothing more than to have gone straight to sleep, but even more than that, Hope wanted a nice long soak in the tub, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Hope settled into the warm water with a sigh, resting her head against the wall as she allowed the water to ease the dull throbbing of her body and a sigh parted from her lips.

All in all, the night wasn't actually all that terrible, in fact, it was almost nice, barring the fact that they'd been, for the most part, surrounded by many Death Eaters and others who didn't approve of Daphne and Hope's choice of company.

But Daphne and Hope didn't particularly care what they thought, Hermione was far more fun to be around than the stiffs with their large estates and monetary value (even though Daphne and Hope could technically fall into that range as well).

Unfortunately, they never did get the chance to see what made champagne taste so good, but that hardly mattered.

Daphne had to keep chasing after her younger sister who had a rather impressive vanishing act, if Hope said so herself.

Hope herself was approached by several young heirs for a dance. Hope wasn't a very good dancer, but it would have been rude to refuse, so she did so, reluctantly (incredibly reluctantly in the case of Heir Marcus Flint, given his response to Hermione earlier that night).

Hermione had been asked to dance too, much to her shock and pleasure by a boy brown hair and pale eyes that Hope didn't catch the name of. She wasn't much better in her dancing when compared to Hope, but the smile on her face made up for it.

The water sloshed a bit in the bath as she stood, wrapping a towel around herself, reaching for the nightclothes that Mindy had carefully laid folded out on top of the toilet.

Hope never would have thought going to a gala was such a trial, but maybe that was because she'd never been to one before. Of course, the Muggle school she had attended had parties for the kids, but Hope had never been allowed to go, nor had she felt any inclination.

She was sure that she would be content to remain inside her little bubble (or large bubble, depending on how you looked at it), after all, she still hadn't completely explored Potter Manor yet, and she and Remus had another two weeks until they started their courses for second year (which was far more exciting than having nothing to do for the next two weeks).

Hope tangled her fingers into her hair, turning it a bright blonde in order to see better as she raked a brush through the locks, smoothing the knots that had formed during her time at the gala.

"Being an heir is harder than it looks," Hope muttered to herself as she set down the brush in order to brush her teeth before throwing herself into bed, cocooning herself in the warmth of her many blankets (Hope discovered very early on that the cold seemed to seek her out) and she shut her eyes.

And sleep fell upon her almost as soon as they were shut, and Hope slept blissfully.

* * *

"What do werewolves do on holiday anyways?"

Hope and Remus were out in the cold, far out to almost the edge of Potter lands, with Remus holding an axe to chop down the tree they were going to put in the drawing room, which of course Hope would be choosing.

Remus spared her a wry grin as they pushed through a thicket of branches that scratched Hope's cheek when she walked too close. "I imagine we do what everyone else does on holiday; enjoy festive cheer."

Hope rolled her eyes for good measure. "I mean," she began, clearing her throat loudly and pressing on despite the cold, her curiosity rearing its head once more, "do you spend it with anyone?"

They passed over a slippery patch of ice and Remus held out his hand to Hope and she took it gratefully, swinging over ice and onto snow.

Mindy had gotten her some new boots for the cold weather and Hope had fallen in love with them; they kept out the cold, leaving her toes toasty warm (which also could have been a spell, but Hope couldn't be sure).

"Well, all my close friends are either dead, or in prison, so no."

Hope frowned at him, biting lightly on the corner of her lip. "What about your parents?" she asked.

Remus gave her a small smile. "My mother died some years ago, and I've been estranged from my father for years."

"Oh," Hope said articulately. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Remus assured her with a small squeeze of the hand, "it's been years."

Hope tilted her head, thinking hard for a few moments, before asking a completely different question. "Why is the ministry so anti-werewolf?"

Remus started in surprise at such a question, so much so that he almost tripped over his own two feet, barely managing to right himself. It wasn't a bad question to ask; it wasn't intentionally malicious, it was honest curiosity. "Werewolves, as I'm sure you've read about, have a bit of a bad reputation; we're viewed as mindless monsters. People who have discovered of my…affliction have often refused to speak with me afterwards. Werewolves are viewed as monsters, that's why we are required to inform the ministry of our ailment, so they can monitor us at all times."

Hope muttered something particularly vulgar under her breath, making Remus toss her a smile that was half amused and half exasperated. "Yes, I believe that was Lily's response as well when she figured it out."

Hope's eyes blinked owlishly at him. "Really?"

"Yes," Remus' voice rang with fond remembrance as they came upon a thick grouping of evergreen trees, some small enough that their height was on par with Hope's, others reaching high above even Remus' head, "your mother was both singularly gifted and uncommonly kind, and it was in balancing those two sides of her that she comforted me despite the knowledge of me condition." He smiled at Lily's daughter. "You are like her in that aspect."

Hope's whole face flooded with colour and she ducked her head quickly in an effort to keep him from seeing, but it didn't work very well, judging by the soft laugh that parted from his lips.

"I don't think so," Hope muttered, "I think you've got the wrong girl…I'm not gifted, I'm average, at best."

"Oh, really?" Remus asked, arching an eyebrow as he did so. "I don't know all that many witches that would compress two years of study into one and come out with at least a pass in each subject."

Hope scowled at him. "You're just trying to make this difficult for me, aren't you?"

This time his laugh echoed around them. "Of course not!" he countered with a wide grin. "But your determination to be humble is—"

"I am _not_  being humble!"

"Oh, yes you  _are!"_

The red on her cheeks had leeched into her hair, turning it from black to auburn. "There's being humble," Hope said, jabbing her finger into his chest, "and then there's being  _truthful!"_

"Sometimes they coincide with one another," Remus responded with a wink.

Hope threw up her arms in aggravation.

"But I am glad you do not judge people as others would do in your place."

Hope quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. "Now what are you going on about?"

"A Half-blood heir that makes friends with a Muggle-born and an heiress to a Grey family is a rare one indeed," Remus felt the need to point out, but he was smiling, so Hope knew it wasn't meant to incite any negative feeling. "Lily didn't approve of prejudice either; she was more for unity than anything else."

That wouldn't have surprised Hope.

"And how'd that go?" Hope asked dryly, a few loose strands of hair being whipped by the wind as she searched for an appropriate tree to mount in the drawing room.

Remus gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "She had a number of friends in other houses; she was best friends with Severus –Professor Snape– up until fifth year—"

"Professor Snape?" Hope asked with befuddlement, the name barely familiar to her.

Remus' mouth twisted into a grimace that earned him a strange look from Hope. "He's the potion-master at Hogwarts, he'll be teaching you and the girls Potions next year."

Hope's eyebrows drew together. "And he was a friend of Mum's?"

"At a time," Remus conceded, "I believe they lived close to one another."

"What about Dad?" Hope asked.

"Well," Remus coughed, "they had a number of differences of opinions on a certain number of subjects…you could say even that they were enemies."

"Oh," Hope said, her eyes glued to a certain tree that was tall, but not overly so, which meant it'd be able to fit in the manor, which was really all that Hope wanted. "I like this one," she added, pointing at the tree in question.

"All right, then," Remus said, hefting the axe, "let's get to work."

It took a surprising amount of effort in order to cut the tree down, but it was the one Hope wanted, and with the pair alternating when the other got tired, it took less time to cut down, but then they had to carry it back to the manor.

Obviously, there was a bit of magic involved, or the tree would still have been stuck where they'd cut it down.

And once they'd gotten it mounted in an empty corner of the drawing room, both leaned back to admire it.

It was taller than Remus, a bit taller than him actually, which meant the lights and ornaments that they would string on it would have to be done with magic, but Hope didn't care.

There was a delirious happiness bubbling up inside her; she had never celebrated Christmas before, or indeed had anyone to celebrate it with. This was a first for her.

"I'll go look for ornaments!" she said brightly before dashing off to search the house.

It seemed likely that they would be kept in the attic (wasn't that where Christmas things went when they weren't in use?), and it took short work for Hope to discover where she could enter up into it, and then she was climbing up the ladder, lifting her wand over her head to illuminate the darkness.

There were lots of white sheets covering spare furniture that had been stashed up in the attic.

Hope had seen early on that there were no portraits of the Potter family members, it seemed that they kept them in the attic; truly humble, weren't they? The sheets hid them from view and Hope didn't feel the need to lift them to see the images that lay beneath.

There were boxes and chests, a number of them. Hope frowned as she pulled a sheet off one, undoing the clasp and throwing it open. There were books within, which confused her, because shouldn't the books in the house be in the library?

She traced her fingers over the crest stamped into the front page of the first book she grabbed, the Black family…Dorea must have brought these books with her when she married Charlus…

"Did you find them?" a voice called from below and Hope jolted violently, shoving the book back into the chest and shutting it abruptly.

"Not yet," Hope called back.

"Do you want me to come up?" Remus inquired and Hope was quick to shoot him down.

"No way," she said, "you were complaining about your knee this morning, you're not coming up the ladder."

She could imagine him rolling his eyes, even if she couldn't see him, but Hope was more physically able than Remus by a long shot.

Hope searched the boxes quickly before coming across one that bore Christmas trees on the outside. She opened it and grinned at the sight of the various ornaments within.

"Found it!" she called, dragging it towards the opening in the floor before carefully lowering it to Remus' arms.

The funny thing about Hope and Remus was that they could use all the magic they wanted, but preferred to do most things manually; cutting down trees, carrying boxes. Remus had gotten used to not using his magic so obviously from taking a number of jobs in the Muggle world when ones in the Wizarding world fell through (which occurred often, given his status as a werewolf could be easily checked), and Hope just preferred to do things herself.

Perhaps that was because she'd been doing it for so long at the Dursleys that it had simply become habit, but Hope didn't mind; she liked doing things the old-fashioned way.

They brought the box to rest on top of the couch, pulling the lid free and taking in the contents.

There were an awful lot of baubles, but they were in a wide variety of colours, so Hope couldn't fault them there, and there were stars, and spire-shaped ones as well. There were a few shaped like things that were a part of a Quidditch game (which Hope knew startlingly very little about).

"So this is a Snitch," Remus said with a small laugh, noticing Hope's confusion, "it's the ball that the Seeker catches."

It was a golden orb with fluttering wings and it was moving as if enchanted, which seemed incredibly likely given the house they were living in.

Hope hung it on the tree. "And the other ones?" she asked.

He pulled out a large red ball. "This is the Quaffle, the Chasers threw it around…that was your father's position."

"Chaser…" Hope smoothed her fingers over the contours of the crimson orb that fit easily into her hand. "Was he any good?" she asked, looking up to meet Remus' eye.

His lips curled into a half-smile. "Yes, he was, very good, actually. He probably could have gone on to play professionally, but he wanted to be an Auror."

"An Auror," Hope repeated, "that's a magical version of the police, right?"

"Yes," Remus bobbed his head in agreement, "but he never got the chance to do so."

Hope's hand tightened around the ornament. "What d'you mean?"

His smile grew sad. "At the time, your parents were in hiding because of Voldemort, neither of them really got the chance to…" His words fell short and Hope found she didn't actually need to hear the words.

Her parents never really had the chance to live, that was the honest truth. They were barely in their twenties when they'd died and left Hope all alone, but Hope didn't blame them for that.

After all, it wasn't as though they chose to die.

Hope thought about the matter a great deal, and she was certain that if her parents had any choice, they would have chosen to be alive, to be here, with her.

She chewed on the inside of cheek for a moment, blinking furiously before taking the Quaffle ornament and hanging it on the tree and continuing as though nothing had happened.

* * *

The Slytherin family line was far more extensive than Hope had originally thought, which was why on the Winter Solstice Hope found herself unrolling the family tapestry that had been a gift by Thanatos himself the day they'd first met.

She'd laid it out in the ballroom to ensure that there was plenty of room to see it, and that was when the tapestry widened, growing larger and including many different names and lines connecting to one another.

But it was always best to start at the top.

She remembered tracing her fingers over the names at the top when Thanatos had first given her the tapestry: Salazar Slytherin and Morea Avis.

From their names were two lines to their children Nelda and Adrian Slytherin. Nelda's was bound to a name, Damian Blackwood, and then to their son Sylvester Slytherin (Sylvester? Wow, that had to be a mouthful).

Morea, Nelda, and Damian all had the same death dates, but Salazar and Sylvester and Adrian did not, though Adrian appeared to have passed a month after the previous three…perhaps a tragedy have occurred in the family, Hope didn't know, Salazar's journal stopped far before the death date marked.

Sylvester's name was connected to that of a woman named Aislin Dionia from who he bore two sons.

It seemed like the Slytherin family was quite extensive at first glance. So many names spanning off in different directions, branching and forking, but it seemed most of the names ended without children to carry on their legacy.

A sad testament to the state of her family, Hope knew.

The direct line started with the name Slytherin, but it eventually became Peverell after a daughter borne to the line married into another. Their child, Adeliade Peverell was the one whom had borne Thanatos three sons.

The eldest, Antioch Peverell died far before his brothers and he left no heirs.

The youngest, Ignotus Peverell, was the one whom Hope was directly related to, through the Potter line.

The middle son, Cadmus Peverell, was the person from which the Gaunt line came, ending with a single name, Tom Riddle Jr.

The name Tom Riddle Jr. was one of the few names that had an added name beneath it, and it was a name that made Hope's heart positively stop in her chest.

Lord Voldemort was written in emerald thread, not unlike Hope's own Elpis Slytherin. The colour fled on fast wings from Hope's cheeks as her eyes focused on the words, denial and incomprehension at war inside her.

It wasn't  _possible_. There was no way that a member of her own family would kill her parents!

It had to be  _wrong!_  It  _had_  to be!

Hope couldn't see straight, her blood boiling in her veins. She didn't even realize until Remus thundered into the room with his wand drawn and eyes wild that she had released a scream filled with pain and anger, the likes of which she had never previously expressed.

She couldn't deal with the idea of being related to her parents' murderer and she clung to Remus with tears pouring from her eyes with no sign of stopping.

* * *

"This family is cursed," Hope said numbly the next day over her groaning stomach when Remus entered her darkened room with a tray of soup courtesy of an anxious Mindy.

"Your family is not cursed, Hope," Remus disagreed, setting the tray on her bedside table to look upon the ten year old witch.

She certainly looked ill enough to stay in bed for the past day, but Remus suspected it was mostly her being ill with herself.

"What do you call it when your distant cousin kills your parents and tries to kill you?" Hope asked despondently.

"Well, I'd call it complicated, for one thing," Remus conceded, sitting in the chair he dragged to her bedside, "but that doesn't mean you're cursed."

A scowl was thrown his direction, but he disregarded it with relative ease.

"Sometimes bad things happen to good people," the werewolf said gently, "and you can't say your family is cursed because of one bad apple."

But Hope wasn't so sure, after all, people didn't say Lord Voldemort, too afraid to even speak it; there were bad apples, yes, but then there were apples that were rotten to the core.

"We can't help who we're related to," he reminded her.

"Or the Fates are just very cruel," Hope considered, which seemed likely, given their track record.

Remus gave her an exasperated look that she had no way of knowing was an expression that he had given her father time and time again.

"You need to eat Hope," he told her firmly. "And you can't tell me that you're not hungry."

Her cheeks coloured pink and jutted out her lower lip in what was clearly an attempt at a defiant expression, but it stopped short of being anything other than adorable.

"I can't keep food down," she muttered finally when she realized that he wasn't going to back down.

"Yes, you can, you just don't want to," Remus countered firmly.

The sick feeling she'd had in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being related to her parents' murderer had only abated slightly in the night, and she  _was_  hungry, but any of the food sent up always seemed to end up in the toilet.

Hope eyed the bowl of soup he'd brought up on the tray cautiously.

"What is it?" she asked, sniffing to ascertain the ingredients' origins, but it didn't quite work for her.

"Chowder," Remus said as Hope pulled herself reluctantly into a sitting position on the bed to allow him to place the tray on her lap.

"Oh," she said simply, stirring a spoon into the thick mixture idly before spooning a small mouthful to her lips and swallowing.

Remus waited, half expecting her to gag, but it seemed her roiling stomach had ceased.

"Tell Mindy thank you," Hope said after a moment, taking another spoonful of the soup and Remus couldn't help but smile.

* * *

It was a commonly known fact that Hope Potter loved mythology, well, commonly if you knew her very well, but that number was rather small, even she had to admit.

Mythology was the first thing that had captured her attention when she was younger, and she had to concede that it was partly to do with her name.

Hope, or Elpis, was the last spirit in Pandora's pithos (because it most certainly was not a box, no matter what anyone thought), so Hope knew a thing about being named for ancient gods.

Maybe she had such a love for it because in the time before her knowledge of magic, she had been as forgotten as the old myths, and that was something she could identify with.

A sudden howl from outside jolted Hope out of her thoughts and caused her to drop her book on Ancient Greek death rites (which was decidedly a bit morbid, but Hope felt that the morbidity was negated given that she was actually related to Death).

The full moon of December just so happened to end up two days before Christmas, which must've been really terrible, but it was better than Christmas itself (Hope suspected it more had to do with Remus not wanting to ruin her first Christmas as a family).

Hope was currently in the drawing room with a thick afghan thrown over her legs with books on both her sides.

She was attempting to remain awake with Remus, but she wasn't exactly sure how long that was going to last, so she was reading to keep herself busy.

The book on death rites lay where she had dropped it, so she reached instead for a book on Ancient Egypt.

Hieroglyphics were a bit difficult to Hope, but, then again, she was learning Greek, so it probably seemed harder than it was because she was diverting her attention to Greek.

What she found the most difficult to wrap her head around was the fact that there were so many different beliefs concerning the afterlife…so who was right?

"If the Greeks have you and Hades and the Egyptians have Osiris and Anubis," Hope had once asked Thanatos, "so who's actually in charge of the dead?"

Thanatos had smiled wryly at his granddaughter. "I believe that would depend upon who they believe in."

"Does it matter?" Hope had asked.

"Oh, yes," Thanatos had replied solemnly. "You will find it matters a great deal…you see, there are many beliefs spanning across the world concerning what happens after someone dies, and what matters, in the end, is what you believe…tell me, what do you think will happen when you die?"

She could have sworn his bottomless-pits-for-eyes were glinting, but Hope had never really considered how she would die. That wasn't the immortality of youth talking, more of Hope couldn't be bothered to consider it at the moment.

Hope arched an eyebrow. "My soul will take me to the Underworld to be judged by the Judges of the Dead, and if I fancy it I might try for rebirth and be washed in the River Lethe."

Thanatos smirked. "If you fancy it?"

Hope shrugged her shoulders. "It's pretty up in the air right now; maybe when I'm older I'll know whether or not to be reborn."

Whether or not life was difficult, was what she meant.

"See, you believe in the Greek afterlife," Thanatos continued, pulling her back to the conversation they'd been having, "and many witches and wizards in the United Kingdom do as well, whether they realize it or not, but there are many gods and everyone believes in what they wish."

"What if you don't believe in anything?" Hope asked shrewdly.

"Well, that's a bit of a grey area," Thanatos conceded, scratching at his cheek awkwardly. "Generally when they die they are given a choice of which afterlife they'd prefer: Greek, Egyptian, Nordic, Christian…and the like."

The flames in the fireplace flickered and snow fell past the windows as the lycanthrope rushed past and Hope only got a glimpse of fur as he raced by.

Tonight in particular was a very cold night and Hope was certainly glad she wasn't spending it outside like Remus and was grateful when Mindy practically materialized at her side, bearing a tray holding a kettle of hot chocolate and a mug to be filled.

She poured the cup for Hope before giving it to her mistress with a small smile and Hope took it gratefully, thanking her quietly as she allowed it to warm her hands where she looped them around the cup.

When she drank it, it was like liquid heat trailing down her throat, keeping the cold that had set in at bay.

And Mindy left her to her thoughts as she dragged another of her books forward, opening it on her lap.

It was probably a better idea for Hope to try to get ahead in her studies, but Hope was easily distracted by anything related to Runes or ancient languages, and there were many studies on each subject to distract her. Besides, it kind of felt like cheating if she started learning about things before Daphne and Hermione, and she was certain her friends wouldn't appreciate it.

Luckily, there was a large number of books in the house that she had yet read and had another week to read before they started up their 'school year' again, which would mean more studying and less reading things that didn't pertain to the subject at hand.

"Mindy, why did I agree to do this?" Hope asked, not really expecting an answer when Mindy's voice filtered in from the kitchen.

"Because Mistress wanted to get ahead," she reminded her, apparently knowing where Hope's thoughts had strayed.

Hope wrinkled her nose, but Mindy wasn't wrong.

But whoever thought that compressing two years into one was a good idea was very wrong.

Not that Hope would ever mention it; she could handle it.

A howl could be heard outside.

_Probably…_

* * *

"I have never built a snowman before," Hope declared on Christmas Eve over breakfast as Remus took a bite of his Scotch Eggs.

Hope couldn't remember the first time the Dursleys had celebrated Christmas, her memory wasn't that great from back then, but she knew she had never been allowed to celebrate it.

No presents for orphan Hope.

"Never?" Remus asked carefully as Hope smeared jam across her toast, taking a handsome bite.

Hope shook her head, swallowing thickly. "Never," she agreed before quickly adding, "and I've never been in a snowball fight."

Now that was the true travesty, James Potter's daughter not being in a snowball fight before. Remus could remember his Christmas breaks spent with the Marauders at Hogwarts, or sometimes here at Potter Manor with James' family, and snowball fights were always involved.

"Did you want to?" Remus asked, looking to her over the Daily Prophet that he had just rolled up.

She tapped her fingers against the wood of the table with seeming disinterest, chewing on the corner of her lip and playing with her cup of pumpkin juice.

"Well, I wouldn't mind it," she muttered more to herself than to him, but it wasn't hard for him to hear her words with his heightened senses, barely hours after the full moon.

"But the full moon was yesterday," Hope said quickly, "so it's not like you'd want to—"

Sometimes Remus wondered who was actually in charge of whom in Potter Manor (the answer was neither since Hope was technically legally under the care of Mindy since Remus, being a werewolf, was not permitted guardianship over Hope).

"I feel fine, actually," he assured her with a smile, "and I wouldn't mind building a snowman with you, or having a snowball fight."

Hope positively beamed and within an hour they were outside in thick coats (cloaks weren't very insulating in the cold weather), hats, and gloves.

Making snowmen was more difficult work than it seemed and Hope became more and more doubtful that Remus knew what he was doing.

"Are you sure you know how to make a snowman, Remus?" she questioned where she as fisting snow into a ball.

"There isn't all that much to building a snowman," Remus assured her, though it didn't seem to be working for him very well. His growing ball of snow seemed to be on the edge of a collapse when Hope put her white orb of snow on top of his, but it held. "See?"

The doubt coloured Hope's face even as she pressed snow together to make the snowman's head.

"I don't think it's going to hold it," she said, holding the snow in her arms as she looked at the partially completed snowman.

"It'll hold," Remus said with certainty.

Hope suspected magic was involved when the snow didn't cave under the weight of the head.

Remus grinned widely at their handiwork before giving a good-to-honest yelp when a small ball of snow collided with his face, and then war was on.

* * *

Remus ended up taking her to a place called Hogsmeade for lunch.

Hope winced in the sudden brightness from the sun shining down on the pure white snow.

"What exactly  _is_  Hogsmeade?" she asked, wrinkling her nose as she kept one arm around his elbow.

"It's a small village outside of Hogwarts, the only all-Wizarding village in Britain, actually," Remus explained.

Confusion warped Hope's face. "There's only one all-Wizarding village in Britain?" she asked.

"Well, most of them tend to have a Magical and a Muggle side," Remus explained with a small smile, and Hope gave a small 'Oh' in reply.

"What's all in Hogsmeade?" she asked instead as the snow crunched under their boots as they walked, her eyes –currently a pale blue, like the colour of the sky above– glancing over the assortment of shops.

"Hm…over there—" Remus pointed with his free hand to Hope's right, "—is Dervish and Banges, they repair and sell magical items, then there's Gladrags Wizardwear, a clothes shop with some very…eclectic taste, I must say—"

Hope stifled her giggles behind her hand as Remus gestured to another patch of buildings.

"Then there's Honeydukes, which is the best place to buy sweets…Zonko's Joke Shop, now, that was your father's favourite."

"Of  _course_  it was," Hope laughed, now intimately familiar with her father's love for a good prank.

She couldn't say that she was unlike her father in that aspect. She had changed the colour of her hair every day of the week in order to aggravate her teachers and the Dursleys, who were less than pleased, and she had once made her science experiment go from calm blue to fiery red and shoot out of the test tube like lava from a volcano (of course, it wasn't as though there was any kind of acid in it, so no one was harmed and Hope avoided getting a detention narrowly, but after that the other students refused to partner with her, which was fine with Hope).

"And here were are," Remus added, pulling her from her thoughts, stopping short in front of a larger building bearing the legend: The Three Broomsticks.

"The Three Broomsticks?" Hope read off the name. "What's this place?"

"It's an inn," Remus said, "but it's also a pub with some great fish and chips."

Hope arched an eyebrow as Remus pulled the door open and waved her inside, blinking a few times to get used to the lower amount of light in the pub than was outside.

The first thing she noticed was that the pub was very full, but not overly so that it would be difficult to find a seat. There was a constant hum of talking, but Hope didn't mind the atmosphere too terribly.

"Come on, let's find a seat," Remus said and she followed after him eagerly.

"I'll be right with you!" a voice called over the noise as Hope and Remus found a small booth, pulling off their thick jackets in the warmth of the inn.

"That was probably Rosmerta," Remus said, noticing Hope glance up as she sat down on the cushion opposite Remus, "she's the landlady in charge of the Three Broomsticks."

Hope nodded in understanding, taking a menu from the side. "Is fish and chips the best thing to eat?"

There seemed to be a bit more variety than Remus had implied.

"You can always trust that fish and chips will taste good, no matter where you are," Remus said with certainty, making Hope smile as the landlady approached with an easy smile.

She had a pretty face with twinkling eyes and lips that drew into a wide smile when she saw Remus.

"Bless my soul," she said, "if it isn't Remus Lupin."

"Hello, Rosmerta," Remus replied just as easily, "how are you?"

"Oh, fine and dandy," she assured him, "haven't seen you around in awhile…is this your daughter?"

Hope blinked in surprise at the assessment before shaking her head quickly. "I'm his niece," she supplied, "Elpis."

"Well, hello, Elpis," Rosmerta said, sounding Hope's ancestral name carefully, "see anything you want to eat?"

All in all, Hope thought it was a very good choice of a place to eat for lunch.

* * *

On Christmas Day, Hope awoke in a startled frenzy, which was a first for her, to be sure.

Never before had Hope had a reason to be excited for the holiday, but the mere sight of the presents resting under the tree, increasing over the course of the past week, was more than enough to get her excited.

Hope practically flew out of bed, donning her cozy bathrobe in her haste before whipping out of the room and racing towards Remus'.

"Remus! Remus!"

She shook him, trying to rouse him, and Remus stirred long last, raising a hand to rub at his eyes.

"Hope?" he murmured fuzzily. "What—?"

" _Presents!"_  Hope answered grinning widely before tugging on his arm. "Come on, Remus! It's  _Christmas!"_

Remus blinked his eyes open, wincing at the light streaming in through the parted curtains that Hope had ripped open a few moments previously. Hope had turned red-haired for the occasion, making her resemblance to her mother startling, but Remus tried not to think about that.

"I take it you want to open presents before breakfast," he mused and Hope's hasty nod was the only answer he needed as he allowed himself to be pulled from his bed and dragged down the stairs to the drawing room, where Mindy had already set up a flickered fire that basked the room in warmth and an orange glow.

"You sit, I'll sort," Hope said in a no-nonsense tone as she pushed him in the direction of the couch before moving towards the tree.

There weren't all that many presents, given what Hope had seen Dudley receive, but she was too feverish in her happiness to care.

There were gifts from Daphne, Hermione, their respective families, Remus, and one from Gringotts (but Hope had asked them to send it, so it didn't really count as a present), Remus got much of the same, except he got a gift from Hope and not himself or Gringotts.

Then it was time to open their gifts.

Hope decided to open the adults' presents first.

From Atreus and Callista Greengrass she had received her own Wizarding chess set. The Potters actually had their own, but it had pieces made from gold and rubies, and Hope preferred pieces a little more subtle than that. As it was, the pieces that went with the board were made of black and white onyx, crafted to perfection.

It was beautiful and Hope couldn't wait to break it in.

From the Grangers she had received a number of sugar-free candies, which came as no surprise, given their occupation as dentists.

Hermione had gifted her a rather thick book on a vast number of mythologies that Hope was going to enjoy reading very much, and Daphne had found her a book on Olde Magick that dealt in the use of runes.

Her friends really did know her too well.

But when she unwrapped Remus' gift, she became a bit confused; after all, what did she need a compact mirror for?

"What's this?" she asked, lifting it carefully from the packaging, eyeing it suspiciously as though expecting it to suddenly burst into flames, but it didn't.

"It's a mirror," Remus replied with a small smirk and Hope shot him a look that said she clearly knew what it was, that wasn't really what she was asking. "It's a two-way mirror, connected to mine."

He lifted his in his hands, but it looked nothing like Hope's, appearing more like a miniature square-shaped mirror that you'd more likely to hang on the wall than stuff in your pocket.

"If you say my name, my mirror will heat up and I can answer," Remus explained.

"Oh," Hope said with dawning realization, "you mean like a mobile."

"A bit, yes," Remus agreed before nodding to the box wrapped in brown packaging that bore the Gringotts seal. "What did Gringotts send you?"

"Oh, just some stuff from my vaults," Hope said carelessly, flicking open the book that Daphne had sent her with interest.

Remus' gifts were far more bookish, including a few tweed suits that didn't have any patches on them, and some candy from Honeydukes that Hope had seen him eyeing when they'd stepped in for a brief moment.

He was taken by surprise when she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "Thank you!" she said, still bright with happiness.

Remus knew he could have told her that James had a two-way mirror with Sirius, but he tried to not think about Black if he could help it; maybe it was good that Hope wasn't plagued by thoughts of the man who was responsible for her parents' death as well as Peter's.

* * *

By her own admission, Hope was a very curious creature, and it was late in the night when Hope decided to investigate the attic a bit more thoroughly. Though, the house was technically hers, so it wasn't like Remus could tell her off from doing anything, but Hope preferred to do things on her own in the dead of night (perhaps because it was something she'd done at the Dursleys and kept up even though she didn't have to).

Hope tucked her wand behind her ear and lifted her lantern from where she had it under her bed, lighting it with a simple spell before leaving the room on silent feet.

She passed by Remus' room without even a creak, making it to the attic pull-down ladder without much trouble. If she whacked her head on the ladder, Hope would never admit it.

The ladder groaned under her weight just slightly as she pulled herself up into the attic at long last, allowing the light from the lantern to illuminate the room.

She didn't go right to the chest that she had discovered the last time she'd been up in the room, the one that belonged to Dorea Black.

There was a surprising number of furniture in the attic, though most of them were in a miniature form and held in a box that rattled when you shook it from the amount of furniture within. But Hope found one plush arm chair that was its actual size, a rusty colour of red that was really nice to sit in.

"You're coming back to my room," Hope said, plopping down in the arm chair, closing her eyes briefly, enjoying the moment before drawing herself up and searching the room once more.

There were a lot of notes concerning potion-making, proper potion-making, apparently, as the writer had insisted. The dictated name of Fleamont Potter told Hope that the writer was her great-grandfather, who had apparently invented the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, which was quite lucrative.

Hope looked over his scrawlings with interest. According to him, crushing beans with the flat side of the silver dagger released juice better, adding a clockwise stir to an anti-clockwise direction helped a potion clear faster, sprigs of peppermint were good for calming side-effects to the Elixir to Induce Euphoria (Hope suspected this was something she might have to brew in a more advanced class of Potions).

She spent more time looking over his notes than she did anything else, probably because the one subject she needed a lot of help in was Potions, and if what Fleamont had written was true, then she could use it for when class started again.

The sudden sound caused by one of the boxes Hope had moved falling from where she had perched it precariously was enough to make her jolt where she sitting, the parchment creasing under her grip as she looked around frantically for the source of the noise.

But she calmed once she realized there was nothing.

Hope stacked the packet of parchment on potion-making on top of the arm chair she was going to drag down to her room before beginning her search anew.

It wasn't really that she was looking for anything in particular, but, as it was said, it was the journey that was important, not the destination. What was really peculiar was what was shoved away up in the attic, forgotten for whatever reason.

Aside from the furniture and Fleamont's notes, Hope had found a large number of portraits, all of whose occupants were fast asleep, a shelf of books on the same kind of Olde Magick that Daphne had sent her a book on that was of great interest.

But then there was the question of why the books were tucked away, out of sight and out of mind. Olde Magick didn't seem dangerous, but what other reason could there had been for why the books were up in the attic and not in the library?

She trailed her fingers along the spines of the books, taking in the words written there before making to move towards where she remembered Dorea's chest being, when Hope's foot caught the spine of book that had apparently been shoved under a heavily-laden table.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she knelt to grasp the book, pulling it out in order to read the title written in thick Celtic-style lettering across the front:  _Magick of the Earth._

The name underneath it was what caught Hope's attention the most: Morea Slytherin.

This was her many time great-grandmother's! But it was the only thing from the Slytherin family Hope had found in Potter Manor, which was strange to say the least, and it made Hope wonder just where anything that belonged to the Slytherin family was, apart from the vault in Gringotts (but there wasn't much other than many things of monetary value, just a few books).

Hope tried to pry open the cover, but it wouldn't budge and it seemed almost as though it was locked, but there was no mechanism to bar her from opening it, which was the strangest thing.

Something sharp pricked Hope's finger and she yelped, dropping the book and sucking on her finger where a bead of blood had appeared, but then the book opened and Hope gave it a suspicious glare.

Of course blood would have been the key; it seemed to practically be a requirement concerning anything that far back in her family line, so Hope wasn't really all that surprised.

She simply shut the book and collected Fleamont's writings and shrank the chair, calling it a night and opting to return to her room.

* * *

December was nearly over when Thanatos found the time to drop by his granddaughter's place.

It was late into the night and the fire was still going strong in the fireplace of the drawing room and Hope was curled up on the couch with a thick blanket thrown over her and a pile of books at her feet.

Thanatos allowed himself a fond smile at the sight.

Hope looked much younger when she was sleeping, the lines in her face relaxed.

She was almost nothing like the girl Thanatos had met in that library what seemed so long ago, but that was a good thing; Hope was more of who she wanted to be now than she had been then.

Interfering in the affairs of mortals was more of Zeus' thing than Thanatos', but he just couldn't resist, not after what had happened to his last descendant.

His toga brushed across the floor as he moved to sit on the floor, near her head, lifting one of the books with a careful hand.

He recognized Salazar Slytherin's handwriting, though the wizard had refused to enter the Underworld, becoming a spectre and slinking into the shadows. Thanatos suspected that he had chosen it as a way to atone for everything that had gone wrong in his family, all the mistakes he had made, but Thanatos was sure that Morea wished for him by her side where she had been in Elysium for many centuries now (and Salazar had more than earned his place, given all that he had accomplished in his life).

A page caught his eye as he thumbed through and he paused to look over it. On it was a sketch that could have only been done by Salazar himself, of a truly beautiful young woman with a secretive smile and bright eyes, her hair a tangle of curls that was a look Hope had clearly adopted.

Thanatos remembered the day Morea Slytherin entered into his domain, only roughly a few moments after her distraught daughter and son-in-law. But Thanatos thought Hope was a bit more like Nelda Slytherin than Morea, with the free spirit she possessed.

Hope stirred faintly in her sleep, and Thanatos could see her eyes moving under her eyelids, still in the cusp of a dream when she finally opened her eyes, blinking hazily and rubbing at her eyes before jumping wildly when she realized she wasn't alone.

"Son of Zeus!" she swore, reeling backwards wildly.

A smirk painted across his lips at the swear. "Not quite," he said, "my father was quite a bit older than Zeus." Being Darkness himself gave Erebus primordial status.

Hope glared venomously at him, her hair lightening to a pale ginger. "That's got nothing to do with anything! Why do you always have to freak me out when you show up?" she demanded.

His smirk widened as he recalled when he'd appeared when Hope's friends were over, scaring them when he spoke out of the darkness. "It is a unique talent to be cultivated, dearest," he assured her.

She just scowled at him. "Why didn't you tell me I'm related to the man that killed my parents?" she asked him without much preamble, and Thanatos surmised that the thought had been very much weighing on her mind.

"I can't tell you everything," Thanatos replied, arching an eyebrow for good measure. "There are some things you must come to on your own."

The mutinous expression on Hope's face didn't abate. "But you knew."

"Yes," Thanatos sighed sadly, "I knew. But I cannot say that it was unsurprising, given the Slytherin family's previous tragedy."

Confusion marred Hope's brow. "Tragedy?" she repeated. "What tragedy?"

Thanatos shut the book, replacing it on the ground. "Salazar Slytherin had a son named Adrian, and he went too far and delved too deep into the Dark Arts. They overtook him and drove him mad…he was determined to kill his family so that only he remained…"

What had occurred was startlingly similar to what had happened on the night of October 1, 1981.

"Nelda and Damian tried to ward him off and Morea chose to protect her grandchild at the expense of her own life," Thanatos said solemnly and all the colour fled from Hope's face as she gaped at him. "Salazar arrived to find the last of his family dead at the hands of his only son, with the exception of his grandson…he dispatched him in a fit of rage."

How  _horrible!_  Hope had thought it was more likely that the death dates were on the same day because an illness had struck them down, but this was much worse.

"Let this serve as a lesson to you," Thanatos told her softly, "be careful of the magic you learn of; do not let it consume you."

And Hope could only nod stiffly as he stood, his cloak rippling behind him, made of a strange material that seemed almost invisible to Hope's eyes.

"Now, all morbidity aside," Thanatos continued, "I have a gift for you."

"A gift?" Hope asked as he pulled the cloak from his shoulders to throw it over Hope's and she looked upon it in awe as she disappeared from view under it. "What is it?"

"It is my invisibility cloak," Thanatos said with a certain level of pride. "I gifted it to Ignotus some time ago and it has passed down his line to James before it vanished…it was given to someone for safekeeping, but I managed to track it down." He gave her a small smile. "Consider it a Christmas present from your absent grandfather."

And Hope hugged him to tightly it was as though she didn't feel the cold radiating from his skin.

* * *

Very soon Albus Dumbledore would discover that James Potter's invisibility cloak had disappeared, and that would make him very uneasy.

* * *

_And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'll all recall, I did swap Fleamont and Euphemia with Charlus and Dorea mostly because Serpent Tongue and Looking Beyond came out before J.K. Rowling released the information about the Potters, just to clear up any confusion.
> 
> Someone also suggested on tumblr that Snape might have heard some of what he wrote in his Advanced Potion-making from James, since he was the son of a potioneer, so I kind of incorporated that into this chapter.
> 
> Its still up in the air whether or not Hope will be a Chaser as several people suggested.
> 
> Next chapter will have Hermione and Daphne a bit more, I promise.
> 
> How did you all like the family times at Potter Manor? And Hope freaking out when she found out that Tom was her cousin? Painful stuff.
> 
> The symbolism in the last bit is what I live for! :)


	7. Flying Through Second Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Muswell and Shifja for correcting me on Great Britain vs. Britain. I should point out that I am an American, so if you see me flub anything to do with Britain or Scotland, please let me know, because the chances are that I don't realize I'm doing it.
> 
> And since someone was confused about the timing: PS: Year 3, CoS: Year 4, PoA: Year 5, GoF: Year 6, OotP: Year 7, so when GoF rolls around, Hope and her friends will be in the same year as Cedric when he's chosen for one of the champions. Fourth year will be awesome, no lie.
> 
> Someone gave me the grand idea of Hope and the girls sabotaging the Slytherin bigots and I've kind of fallen in love with the idea, so Hope and the girls probably won't be playing Quidditch, though, given their bookish nature, I'm sure that doesn't come as much of a surprise.

By the time January rolled around, Hope was more than ready to start Second Year.

"My school doesn't start up for another two weeks," Hermione informed her and Daphne brightly when they met up for their first lesson since the holiday, which was Transfiguration, and involved turning beetles into buttons, "so I can get a head-start on magical studies!"

"I still think anyone would be crazy to do this and Muggle School at the same time," Daphne said, shaking her head for good measure. "I'd probably  _die_  if it was me."

"Don't be overdramatic," Hope said, nudging the blonde in the side with her elbow before lifting her wand to attempt the incantation.

" _Coleoptera Buto!"_  Hope intoned carefully as her beetle made a valiant escape across the table. The beetle morphed for the most part into a button, with the exception that it had legs, and it used them to scuttle over the wood as Hope frowned and Hermione giggled.

Of course, Hermione already had the spell down. She had gotten it down perfectly on her third try and was now working on the counter-spell to reverse the enchantment, turning the button back into a beetle. It was a bit harder to manage, but she was still farther along than either of her friends.

"So," Daphne said airily, "do anything fun for Christmas?"

Hope shrugged. "I built a snowman with Remus, Grandfather stopped by, oh, and I found out that I'm related to the wizard that killed my parents."

Daphne's beetle managed to scurry off of the table as both she and Hermione stared at the green-eyed friend. "You – _what?"_

"Voldemort," Hope said, "or Tom Riddle, as that is his name, you know, I think I'm going to start calling him Tom, it's much less impressive than Lord Voldemort, if you ask me."

"You can't just drop that on us like that!" Daphne jabbed her wand in Hope's direction and Hope blinked at the silver and green sparks that shot from the end, just missing her.

"Well, I figured the best way to do it would be to just blurt it out," Hope responded, unperturbed by her friend's response.

"You're related to Voldemort?" Hermione demanded, gaping at her. "How?"

"Well, see, I'm related to a woman named Adeliade Peverell who had three sons by Grandfather," Hope explained, ticking off the names on her fingers, "Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. Antioch had no children, and I'm the last of Ignotus' line, and Cadmus' ended with the Gaunts, with a woman named Merope Gaunt having a son named Tom Riddle, who eventually came to be known as Lord Voldemort."

Her two friends were quite stupefied by the explanation and Hope blew out a short breath, blowing the loose curl that had fallen into her eyes out of the way.

Well, it was better to get it over with quickly.

"And you're telling me that that didn't freak you out?" Daphne asked, still looking a bit aghast.

"I sulked for awhile," Hope said, sparing a scowl towards her friend when she began to snigger, "but we can't help who we're related to."

"Isn't that the truth," Daphne said, still sniggering while Hermione looked on in confusion.

Hermione poked Hope's arm, stage-whispering in her direction. "What exactly is she talking about?"

"I honestly have no idea," Hope replied, expelling a loud sigh from her mouth as she did so.

"Oh, you know, it's just that all Pure-blood families are interrelated, so, technically, we're all related to people we probably wouldn't want to be." Daphne shook her head for good measure.

Hope gave Hermione a despondent stare. "You have no idea how lucky you are to be Muggle-born and not have to deal with all this drama."

But Hermione felt as though drama was a relative term. Her mother's parents were dead and had been for years, the same was with her father and he was estranged from his sister's family concerning the matter of her grandparent's will, that had apparently favoured their first born son over their second born daughter.

Hope's beetle lost a few legs and looked almost entirely like a button, but she still had some work to do before it would come out perfect.

"I think everyone's got a bit of drama in their family," Hermione said with a shrug of her own. "There's really no helping it."

"I suppose not," Hope muttered downheartedly, poking her scuttling button. "But what about you, Daphne?"

The blonde-haired witch blinked owlishly at both girls. "What about me?" she asked flummoxed; well, they had gotten a bit off topic.

"What'd you do for Christmas?" Hermione piped up helpfully.

"Oh, we went to see Nana," Daphne said, waving a careless hand.

Her grandmother was very lax about tradition, which was one of the things Daphne liked about her. Lady Danae Anastas always insisted her granddaughters call her Nana as opposed to Grandmother, as their mother had attempted to insist upon when they were younger, but Nana stuck and Callista had to give up.

"She drove Father up the wall, it was great."

Hope couldn't stifle her sniggers.

* * *

Charms, Hope found later that week, wasn't as difficult as it had been when they had first started, though that was possibly because they'd been doing it for half a year now, so they understood using charms a bit better now. Of course, they were far from being experts, but at least they were farther along than expected of their year-mates.

Remus gathered them in the ballroom, which was easily the largest room in the manor, and, as such, was the room they used for practicing spells that didn't involve enchanting certain objects.

"Today, I am going to teach you the Disarming Charm," Remus told them and the girls looked to each other eagerly. "Now, the incantation is quite simple. Repeat after me: _Expelliarmus_."

" _Expelliarmus_ ," the girls repeated, sounding out the spell carefully, especially given what had happened the last time someone had incorrectly spoken the incantation to a spell; Daphne had reduced a pillow to cinders.

"Good," Remus said, "now the movement of the wand is a bit like making a swirl with your wand."

He made the motion with his wand and the girls repeated the movement.

"Practice on your own for fifteen minutes, then I'll come back to check on you."

That was usually what he did concerning teaching new spells to his charges, considering the unorthodox environment they were currently in for attempting to squeeze two years of study into one.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Hermione's wand shot out of her hand to clatter on the floor close to Hope's feet and the dark-haired witch knelt to grab it and hold it out to her friend as she moved forward to take it back.

"Okay, so what's the deal with avoiding Herbology?" Daphne asked as Hermione tried her hand at disarming Hope.

"Well, the greenhouse is a bit…overgrown," Hope said as her wand gave a sharp tug, before remaining in her hand. "My great-grandfather Fleamont used to take care of it, but after he died, Grandfather Charlus never really managed to keep it up and Dad definitely didn't."

Overgrown was a term that Hope used loosely, honestly it looked as though the plants had taken over the greenhouse and it was going to take some serious effort to get it to look the way it should again. They probably could have cleared it out a few months back when they'd first started classes, but First Year Herbology didn't require as much as Second Year Herbology.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

Hope's wand flew out of her hand and Hermione barely managed to catch it before handing it back to her with a small smile before they switched to Daphne and Hermione practicing.

Maybe she and Remus would work on the greenhouse over the weekend when they actually had the time to do so, but Hope also wanted to take the time to read through her book on Earth Magick, which was about as fascinating as Blood Magick, if not more so.

But she kept those facts to herself; she knew how Blood Magick was viewed by others and she didn't know how Remus would react to Earth Magick.

* * *

As usual, the lantern by Hope's bedside was lit, the light from the candle within flickering. The lamp probably would have illuminated better, but Hope didn't want so much light, especially so late at night, which was harsh and bright against her eyes.

Hope pulled the book towards her, the one that she'd found in the attic concerning Earth Magick, opening its heavy cover and creasing back the first page that bore the Slytherin crest and the title and name of the author in slanted, curling script that could have only belonged to Morea herself.

_ An Introduction to Earth Magick  _

_The obscurity of Earth Magick leads to many misconceptions, and such has always been the case. And many fear that which they cannot understand. Some consider this magick Dark due to its many possibilities, which can lead to being Dark, if used incorrectly. However, Earth Magick was the first kind of magick that was used by mortal-kind. Drawing power from one's surroundings was the mark of a great master, but times are changing, and what was once considered great has been scorned and forgotten._

_Earth Magick is the centre of all great magicks. It requires no wand, though many have used staffs to centralize the power of the magick, it is not a necessity. A great master of Earth Magick has no need for a staff, and no need for an incantation._

_Though this magick is very powerful, there is no denying its unruly nature. But all magick are difficult to control to control at first, and the more ancient the magick is, the more effort there must be given._

Hope traced her fingers over the careful lettering and the sketches that had been etched into the pages. Morea had drawn the image of a staff, one that Hope presumed to have been the witch's before her death. The wood was twisted and winding, holding a gem of sorts trapped within the woodwork.

_This magick is considered more dangerous than others because it can draw power from the user's very soul. It was the first of what is considered Soul Magick, a magick that has always been regarded with the deepest suspicion. And while it is true that the magick is dangerous, it is the user who one should be more concerned with, as magick is an impartial force._

Hope could practically feel the irritation in the words.

_For beginners in the art of Earth Magick, it is safest to utter incantations, as doing so helps to control the magick the user is attempting to enact. While most witches and wizards of this time prefer Latin roots for spells, it is Greek roots that Earth Magick responds to best._

_Within this book are a number of Greek-based spells for one beginning in Earth Magick. Keep in mind that intent in key and without it, no spell will work._

_I wish you, reader and Earth Magick practitioner, all the best luck in this art. I can assure you, it is a most fulfilling magick to learn._

_Morea Avis_

* * *

The infestation was much worse up close and it was particularly chilly, as they were only halfway through January, so Hope found herself bundled up in a tight coat with thick gloves and a hat on her head; Hope rather thought it was incredibly unlikely for her to bend anything but her knees.

"Do we really have to do this when it's this  _cold?"_  Hope asked with a pout as clear as day on her lips.

"Yes," Remus chuckled, "or we'll never get to Herbology."

Well, it would lighten the workload, but Hope knew he was right.

The Greenhouse itself was quite big, which meant there was more than enough space for when Hope, Hermione, and Daphne actually did use it, but it was in need of a serious remodelling.

The wooden frame was mouldy and seemed to be under an increased amount of strain as the days of disrepair continued, the window panes were cracked and opaque, and the plants was a menace.

"This is going to take all day," Hope bemoaned as she helped drag out what appeared to be long dead branches, but Hope was sure that there was a bit more to it than that, or they wouldn't be so difficult to remove.

"Only if you don't put your back into it," Remus replied, sparing her a wink that made her roll her eyes.

"There is a faster way to do this, you know," Hope couldn't help but grumble to herself.

"Oh, and what's that?" Remus called back.

Hope's lips curled upwards and she held out a hand to one of the branches.  _ **"Xýlo sýmptyxis**_ ," she murmured, and the green of her eyes seemed to gleam impossibly bright for a brief few moments.

Remus paused at the murmur of her incantation, turning to see her raise a hand towards the branch and then watch in awe as it shrank away, receding until it had gone from the greenhouse entirely, leaving gaping holes in the glass.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, watching the roots return to either their plants or the earth.

Hope gave him a wide smile. "Just something I've been working on," she said brightly.

"Something you've been working on?" Remus repeated, crossing his arms as best as he could as he scrutinized his quasi-niece. "Hope, that was  _wandless magic_ , very few witches and wizards have ever managed such a feat and you're only ten years old!"

Hope's eyes twinkled. "Maybe I'm just special."

Remus gave her a stare that said he didn't believe that for a second.

"All right, I might have dabbled in a bit of ancient magic," Hope admitted, pulling out her wand and tapping at the glass panes, " _Reparo!"_  The cracks disappeared and the glass cleared.

"A bit of ancient magic?" Remus prompted.

"Earth Magick," Hope finally said, "there was a book on Earth Magick."

The small smile fell from his face. "Hope," he said, his jaw stiff, "that's Dark Magic."

Hope gave him a scowl at those words. "Says someone who's never seen it used before," she sniffed, her nose in the air. "How can something possibly be Dark if it comes from the earth? Earth Magick was among the first kinds of magic in the world, it's older than wand-magic and more powerful. How can you say it's Dark if it comes from nature in its purest form?"

She glared at him, her eyes as dark as her grandfather's in that instant.

And oddly enough, Remus had never considered her argument against the label of Dark being placed on, but Hope had a curious interest in subjects that many considered to be taboo.

Hope turned away, jabbing her spade into the frost-crusted earth in an effort to ignore him, which was harder than it seemed, mostly because he was only a few feet away from her.

She dug into the pot, searching for the dirt that was still full of nutrients before spreading her fingers over the pot.

 _ **"Méchri to édafos,"**_  she murmured softly and before Remus' eyes, the earth tilled, becoming richer than it had been previously.

"Sometimes," Hope said, her words catching in her throat briefly before she started once more, "society condemns things without realizing what they really are."

Her eyes were too knowing when Remus met them with his own, but he had to hand it to her, she was uniquely gifted in twisting her words to her needs.

Remus was certain beyond a doubt that Gryffindor would not be the house she was sorted into, if anything, it was a tossup between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

And she wasn't wrong, particularly in his case. It was easier to consider all werewolves as dangerous than simply taking into consideration that werewolves were actually people most of the year (barring the twelve days of the full moon).

Remus knew that Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf that had turned him, was most likely to blame for that issue.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind, then, if I read from your book on Earth Magick…to familiarize myself with a magic that I know very little about?" he asked wryly.

Hope considered him, clearly caught between wanting to keep the book to herself and keep practicing on her own, but she also wanted to give it up to him, to prove that while Earth Magick might not have been considered Light magic, it still wasn't Dark, which was rather the point Hope was trying to make.

"Yeah, all right," she said, moving on to the next pot, stabbing her spade into the earth, churning it with difficulty before uttering another spell under her breath.

It didn't take nearly as much time as Hope had been expecting to fix the greenhouse, though that was possibly partially because of her, but, either way, Hope was glad to be out of the cold.

* * *

"And then we put in the…?" Daphne prompted, carefully sectioning Hermione's thick hair, threading it into a tight French braid while Hermione sat in front of her, a blanket thrown over her legs and her potion's book shut on her lap.

Her face pulled into a wince every so often when Daphne tugged a little too hard.

"…Powdered asphodel and then two anti-clockwise stirs and a pinch of powdered moonstone before letting the potion simmer for half an hour."

"Right in one," Daphne said, consulting the potion's book that was positioned off to her side on the cushions while she tied off Hermione's braid. "There you go."

Hermione gingerly ran her fingers over the plait, pulling herself up onto the couch beside Daphne before glancing over to Hope, arching an eyebrow.

"Hope, what're you doing?" she asked her. "You know we've got an exam tomorrow, don't you?"

"I am looking over my great-grandfather's notes," Hope said stoutly with the parchment leaflets scattered around her with her potion's book open to the love potion they were being tested on the next day (no one said that Remus didn't have a sense of humour, honestly, a  _love potion_  on  _Valentine's Day_ …).

Both girls threw her a blank expression that had Hope rolling her eyes for good measure. "You know, Fleamont Potter? The bloke that came up with the Sleekeazy Hair Potion? An incredible potioneer?"

Daphne frowned. "And you're hoping that some of his potion skills will rub off on you?" she asked dubiously.

"Well, I'm hoping I can find out what I'm doing wrong, mostly," Hope muttered, scratching out several words in her instructions in favour of something that her grandfather had written. "I mean, I can't be that bad at following directions! Potionmaking is just like cooking, you know, and I'm pretty fair at that!"

She was the one who had been in charge of most of the meal-making during her time at Number Four, and though she hadn't been all that great at it when she'd started out, she had gotten better as the years went on, up until she'd left. Mindy, after all, was far better a cook than Hope.

"Maybe you're just bad at multitasking?" Hermione offered a suggestion and Hope's lips drew downwards into a frown.

"That can't be it," Hope disagreed. Their whole tutoring dealt with the ability to juggle so many classes and information in a short amount of time. Hope was sure that if someone asked her if she ever wanted to attempt something like what they were doing now again, she would turn them down (once was enough).

"Maybe I'm daydreaming," she decided.

Daphne shot a look her way. "You daydream in the middle of making potions that might blow up in your face?"

Hope snorted and Hermione looked scandalized. "Like any of the potions we brew are likely to blow up in our faces, I mean, come on."

"That's really not the point," Hermione mentioned.

"What's life without a little risk?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh while Daphne released a short giggle. "Longer," the brown-eyed witch informed her.

"Quality not quantity," Hope sang in reply, folding up her leafs of parchment and shutting her potion's book. "I'm looking forward to the exam tomorrow, aren't you?" she asked a bit too cheerfully.

Obviously she had a good feeling about the exam from her great-grandfather's notes.

"Hey, what was that thing you and Remus were fighting over a while back?" Daphne asked her friend suddenly. "Something about an old magic that he didn't quite approve of?"

Hope crossed her arms and huffed in a bit of annoyance. "I don't understand what the big idea is," she griped, expelling a sharp gust of breath from her mouth that blew up a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her bun. "It's just Earth Magick, it's not like I was looking into Dark Magic!"

Daphne's brow furrowed and Hermione looked on in confusion –Earth Magick wasn't a magic she was familiar with.

"But isn't Earth Magick part of Dark Magic?" Daphne asked in befuddlement.

Hope jutted out her lower lip and scowled. "This is the  _exact_  same argument I had with Remus, you know," she told her a bit vexed. "Earth Magick is magic in its purest form, magic from the earth itself. It's very old and powerful and can be unpredictable."

Hermione thought it sounded a bit like Hope was reciting those words from a book. "Can you show us?" she asked eagerly, despite Daphne's apprehension; Hermione too had a love for knowledge and was only so happy to learn of another type of magic.

And Hope smiled, just as happy to comply to her friend's request.

 _ **"Flóga"**_  Hope murmured, holding out her palm as a small flame flickered to life above her skin. It was like holding a small beating heart of warmth in her hand.

Hermione gasped in awe and Daphne leaned forward, fascinated.

"How is that not burning you?" Daphne demanded, reaching out a hand tentatively to the flame flickering in Hope's palm.

"It's not the kind of flame that burns," Hope explained, "this is one that's meant to illuminate, see?" She took her other hand and moved it right through the flame and two pairs of eyes widened as they looked at her hand, unburned from the heat.

"How did you do that?" Hermione gasped, poking a finger at the fire with a bit of caution, only to jump back in surprise. "It's  _cold!"_

"Cool, right?" Hope asked with a grin, the pun completely going over her head, so Daphne opted not to point it out. "My great-something-grandmother was one of the only practitioners of Earth Magic, it's why people still call her Morea of the Earth."

Morea's skill was certainly something to be feared, perhaps it was one of the reasons that Salazar had been drawn to her in the first place.

"Want to see another trick?" Hope asked her friends brightly, and they were only so eager to see another.

* * *

"Today's lesson will be repotting Mandrakes," Remus said, grinning at the simultaneous three groans that his students gave.

It wasn't as though they had any problems with Mandrakes, since they'd never worked with the magical plant before, but clearly none of the girls had much love for the repotting of plants. Remus knew Hope would have preferred to just leave the plants in the ground and let them grow rather than repot them.

"Which one of you wants to tell me about the properties of Mandrakes?" he asked.

To neither Hope nor Daphne's surprise, Hermione's hand had shot up right into the air.

Remus gave a soft chuckle at that. "Yes, Hermione?" he prompted.

"Mandrakes, or Mandragoras, are powerful restoratives. It is used to turn someone who is transfigured or cursed to their natural state," the bushy-haired brunette said clearly.

"And what is an example of a kind of state that the Restorative Draught can bring you back from, Daphne?"

The blonde witch jolted in surprise and Hope could read the stunned expression on her face quite well, one that said she didn't have any idea what he was talking about. "I don't know."

Hope waved a few fingers with an expression of contemplation and the werewolf nodded to her. "Hope?"

"Well…could it work on someone affected by the Draught of Living Death?"

That potion wasn't one the witches would be working on until at least their sixth year, given how difficult it was, but Hope had read about its effects in one of her potions reference books.

"That is an interesting idea to consider," Remus conceded, "but as far as I've heard, the Wiggenweld Potion appears to be the only cure to the Draught of Living Death. So, for your assignment for next class, describe the Mandrake, its properties, and what kind of conditions it is capable of curing."

He dusted off his hands. "And now I'm going to explain to you what you'll be doing beforehand, because you won't be able to hear a word I say once you put on your earmuffs."

Three heads nodded in understanding, even as Daphne eyed the slightly moving tufted leaves peeking out of the top of the dirt distastefully.

"So, Mandrake cries are fatal to anyone who hears them," Remus continued, "luckily, the ones we've got are a bit young, so their cries won't kill you, the most they'll probably do is knock you out for a few hours."

Hope was startled by that, but Daphne merely drawled out, "Which is a comfort to us, I'm sure."

Remus spared her a small smile before patting his hand against one of the pots in front of him. "Continuing on, you will grab the Mandrake here—" Remus made the motion to wrap his thick-gloved fingers around the stem. "—and you'll yank it right up, put it in the other pot and pile compost on top of it until only the leaves are visible once more. Understand?"

They all nodded.

"Do not take off your earmuffs until all the Mandrakes are completely covered, which means you'll have to wait for the others to finish, but there's only three of you, so I don't think you're too worried about that."

Hope rolled her eyes and Hermione giggled while Daphne rolled her shoulders, ready to start.

"Once you've all got your earmuffs on, you may begin," Remus said.

Hope drew her earmuffs over her ears, sound immediately cutting off the noise around them. Hermione and Daphne did the same a moment later, and then all three grasped the stems of their Mandrakes firmly, pulling them up from the dirt.

And Hope couldn't help but stare at what they'd unearthed. They were certainly a bit ghastly, like an ugly baby composed entirely of the earth, complete with a wailing mouth.

She was suddenly very grateful that they had their earmuffs to protect themselves from the noise, because it didn't look as though it was pleasant to listen to.

Hope didn't know about the Mandrakes the other two, but hers was certainly putting up a fight, it may have been difficult to pull it out of the earth, but putting it back into it was going to be exceptionally difficult as well.

It flailed and thrashed before Hope managed to dump it at long last into the empty pot. Hope glowered at it, but that appeared to make little difference to the Mandrake, which gave no notice that it had seen her glare as it continued to cry and flail its root-like appendages.

Hope shook her head in exasperation for reaching down beside her feet to where a bag of compost rested and she hoisted it up onto the table, ripping it open and pouring some compost in.

Obviously, she couldn't just dump all the compost on Mandrake all at once, though Hope dearly wished that she could have. Instead, Hope made sure to pack the compost in, surrounding the Mandrake as best as she could before pouring more compost in.

Before she knew it, the Mandrake's head had disappeared under the packed layer of compost and Hope was only so happy to see it go. It meant that instead of three Mandrakes wailing, now there were only two, while was certainly a load off where her hearing was concerned, whether or not the Mandrakes didn't really have a chance of doing too much damage.

Hope looked to her side, amused to see that Hermione was pouring her compost onto her Mandrake, continuously mouthing "I'm sorry!" to it, whilst on her other side Daphne was wearing a thunderous expression, glaring daggers at her Mandrake, clearly very unenthused with their Herbology lesson, no matter how grudging she did it.

The green-eyed witch allowed herself a small smirk when she noticed how Daphne's lips formed into a familiar swear that made Hope wonder where her friend had learned it.

And then she leaned back to wait for her friends to finish their potting.

* * *

Their lessons flew by quickly and the young witches soon found themselves in the middle of March, writing their essays for their Transfiguration class the next day.

Hermione had finished hers early and was now sitting on the window seat, looking out into the glum night as the rain came in a downpour without any sign of stopping.

She sighed. "Poor, Remus, you know? Running around as a werewolf in all this rain can't be pleasant."

Hope looked up with a small stain of ink on one of her cheeks. "Better than the snow, though. Mindy had to keep adding Pepper Up Potion to his hot chocolate to get him functioning again."

That was true. A werewolf lying around in the cold snow did nothing for his health, that much Hope had been made aware of when Mindy had to forcibly remove her mistress from Remus' room.

Winter seemed to have been a really bad time for Remus with his delicate condition, and some days the girls had found themselves on their own without their teacher, but they did well enough on their exams not to warrant going back over the material, and thus stretching on how long they were to stay on their second year (though, really they did have plenty of time, since they weren't to go to Hogwarts until September, but the girls also wanted some vacation time before they went back to school).

"What was that potion that's supposed to help werewolves?" Hermione asked absently, still staring out into the darkness.

"The Wolfsbane Potion," Daphne said without looking up from her parchment where she was sprawled on her stomach close to the fire, scribbling her words onto the parchment she had thrown across her book.

"Do you think we could make it for him?" Hermione asked, her eyes focusing on a rapidly moving figure out in the shadows of the night.

Hope gave a snort at that. "You're joking, right? The Wolfsbane Potion is supposed to be really difficult. Usually only potionmasters can manage to make it, it'd probably be really disastrous if we got it wrong and I wouldn't want to be the one to test that on Remus."

"Good point," Hermione said, finally dragging her eyes from the window to flop back against the couch. "Are you done yet?"

"Almost," Daphne muttered, sticking her tongue out of the edge of her mouth just slightly before she finished her paper with a flourish. "There! Done!"

Hope uttered a Grecian swear that Hermione only recognized because her friend had used it before.

"Harder 'g'," Daphne retorted with a smirk and Hope gave her a scowl, muttering the revised swear under her breath, ignoring the book that Hermione threw at her leg, no matter how hard it collided against her calf.

"When this is all done, I need a month-long vacation from the pair of you," Hope decided. "You're bad for my health."

Daphne snorted and Hermione laughed, both knowing her too well to take her seriously.

* * *

"Now you're just showing off," Daphne complained, jabbing a finger at the pillow frozen in the air by Hermione's _Immobulus_.

"There is nothing wrong with showing off if it's something you're good at," Hermione refuted, looking remarkably pleased with herself (it wasn't as though she'd gotten the spell right on the first go).

"Says the person who gets most of the spells right," Daphne grumbled to herself whilst Hope sniggered.

"Aw, Daphne, are you feeling bitter?" Hope probed with a grin, elbowing her friend in the side as she did so.

"I am  _not_   _bitter!"_  Daphne insisted. "I get my spells right! Maybe not as fast as Hermione, but I get them right!"

Remus sighed as Hermione and Hope laughed at their friend's expense. "All right, you two, I think you've taken the mickey out on Daphne enough for the day, don't you think?"

Hope shrugged. "Maybe."

He opted to ignore that, focusing more on the teaching rather than the chaos his three students seemed to get up to in between learning new spells. Really, they were putting him off teaching, well, incredibly compressed teaching. Remus knew without a doubt that he would not be attempting another two years of school in one like he had for the three young witches.

"Continuing on," he said, shooting them all a look to quell any other interruptions until he was through explaining the next charm. "The next spell I will be teaching you is the General Counter-Spell."

As he spoke, he scrawled the words onto the black board that he'd wheeled into the ballroom (since it was the best place for them to practice their incantations without having too many problems) strictly for that purpose. "Now the incantation is:  _Finite._  There is another incantation to use, but we won't get into that since it won't be covered until you're a bit older…now can you guess what this spell does?"

"Er, does it stop spells?" Daphne ventured the most obvious response, given the spell's name.

"Yes," Remus agreed, "it's a counter-curse for general use. It works on most spells and curses, but there are some that require specific counter-curses to cancel their effects. This is the movement you will make when you cast the spell." And he took the chalk, drawing what seemed almost like a shield that wouldn't have been amiss on a suit of armour in Hogwarts.

Then he placed a chair in front of each girl and had it transfigured to stand upright and turn bright blue.

"Have at it," he said, "I'll check on your progress in about ten minutes."

And then he turned his back to them, and that was when he heard a dull boom and had to twist around violently to see Hope a few feet back from where she had been standing, her chair charred remains, and Hermione and Daphne huddled to the side, arms over their heads.

"Hope!"

The currently-bronze-haired girl sat up, not seeming to notice the long cut on her cheek from the wood that had been blown back by her minor explosion.

"That was awesome!" Hope pumped her fists in excitement. "Can we do it again?"

Hermione and Daphne stared but Remus merely gave her a look of fond exasperation.

"Do it again? Are you  _crazy?_   _You almost blew us up!"_  Daphne exploded.

" _Almost_  being the operative word," Hope countered, grinning widely as Hermione smacked a hand to her forehead.

But Remus really should have known better, after all, this was the daughter of a Marauder and the goddaughter to another.

Chaos _was_  in her blood.

* * *

History of Magic was by far the easiest of Hope's classes, mostly because it could be done independently without a teacher, which meant that it was the class they were the farthest in, compared to the classes that required a practical application.

And since she didn't seen her friends much during the week as opposed to weekends, that was when she did most of her studying for that class.

"The International Warlock Convention of 1286 was attended by a group of Sardinian sorcerers due to a disagreement concerning the regulations between differing magical communities—" Hope mumbled aloud as she jotted down the words into her notes only to be interrupted by a sharp knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," Hope called, not looking up from her book before fixing the sheer number of blankets she had swathed around her body; frankly, it was a bit ridiculous.

The door pushed open to permit the one at the door to enter, an enter Mindy did, laden down with a tray that held a bowl full of something that smelled heavenly and one cup that was smoking slightly.

Hope eyed it dubiously as Mindy placed the tray at her bedside. "Is there Pepper Up Potion in there?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the thought. Hope didn't much like Pepper Up Potion, but, thankfully, she didn't have to take it very often, so that was a plus.

"Yes, Mistress," Mindy said, smoothing her knobby hands down the front of her tunic-styled dress.

Hope groaned, flopping her head back against the pillows, wishing nothing more than her cold –which had been present for the whole day and had made studying a bit difficult– to disappear. "You know I don't like Pepper Up Potion, Mindy."

Mindy held out the smoking cup to her with a steely stare that brooked no argument. "If Mistress wants to get better, then Mistress needs to take her potions."

Hope huffed in annoyance, but she still took the cup, gulping it down so as to get it over with quickly, but that didn't stop it from tasting foul.

"Gods, that's terrible," Hope griped, but the house-elf gave her no sympathy, she was there to look after Hope, after all, not alter the taste of potions.

"Mindy will bring Mistress a glass of water to go with her soup," she said, giving a small bow before making for Hope's door.

"Oh, and Mindy?" Hope called. "Thank you."

If the house-elf smiled, Hope did not know.

* * *

"I will never get over how clear it is out here," Hermione said where they were all settled on the roof (which might have seemed like a bit of a precarious position if the part of the roof that they were settled on wasn't flat, but it was, so the crisis was averted).

"Another upside to living in the country," Hope mentioned, eyes fixed in her telescope as she searched for the stars she was charting. "I'm actually not sure how far the Potter lands extend."

Daphne looked up from her star chart, arching an eyebrow at her. "You've never gone to see how far they go?"

One of the first things her parents had taught her and Astoria was about how far they could go before they were outside the manor wards and thus outside their protection.

Hope shrugged. "I never felt the need, I've been a bit too busy to do much…investigating of the land. And it's been a bit cool, so I figured I'd better wait until it was a bit warmer."

Which, luckily it was. They were almost completely through April now, which meant in a month or so their final exams would be upon them. It had been a bit chilly until recently so that when they did Astronomy they were usually wearing blankets around them to protect them from the cold.

"Once we're done with class I'll have a better look around," she said with a shrug before throwing a grin their way. "Maybe climb a few trees."

It had been awhile since Hope had climbed any trees for fun, the last time she'd been in a tree it had been because she was chased up it by the dog of Vernon's sister. She grimaced at the thought; it wasn't a particularly pleasant memory.

It had been a few weeks before she found out about the Wizarding world by Thanatos and Hope had accidentally trod on the terrible woman's equally terrible dog whilst carrying a few books to her 'room'. Really, the dog was the one that was bad-tempered, sending Hope racing up a tree and having to stay there for hours because the Dursleys –all of them, the miserable pieces of humankind– were content to watch her stuck up there until midnight.

"Aren't you afraid that you'll fall?" Hermione asked with concern flickering in her brown orbs.

" _Psh!"_  Hope scoffed, waving a hand carelessly. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen? A few broken bones?"

"Yes, Hope," Daphne said dryly while Hermione threw her friend an exasperated stare, "that's  _exactly_  what could happen, you breaking your fool neck."

"What's life like without a little risk?" Hope demanded with a wide grin.

"I'm pretty sure that we've had this conversation before," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes and scrutinizing her friend.

"Probably," Daphne agreed. "Hope is a very reckless person."

" _Hey!"_  Hope complained. "Just because the two of you enjoy the quiet life doesn't mean that everyone does."

Hermione rolled her for good measure before turning her attention back to the telescope, almost poking herself in the eye in her haste to look through it. "Have you found Mira in the Cetus constellation?"

Tonight they were working on the Perseus Family constellation, which included the constellations of people and creatures in the myth of Perseus son of Zeus: Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Andromeda, Perseus, Pegasus, and Cetus.

Mira was the clearest star in the Cetus constellation, but Hermione wasn't as much of a star-gazer as Hope was.

"Yeah," Hope agreed, frowning as she drew her parchment closer to her eyes so she could see it better, even with the bright lanterns positioned around them to illuminate their work space. "That's in the third quadrant."

"Is it?" Hermione asked, squinting her eyes as she looked through the telescope again. "You sure?"

"Er, yeah, pretty sure." Hope had found Mira early into their lesson (if it could have been called a lesson, really it was more like glorified star-gazing, and Hope was all for that). Hope stood, pushing back her seat to keep from jostling her telescope and removing it from the fifth quadrant where she was searching for Herschel's Garnet Star in the Cepheus constellation. "Here, let me have a look."

Hermione leaned out of the way to let her friend have a look through the lens, but then Hope chuckled. "What is it? Did you find it?"

"You were looking right at it," Hope snorted. "It's that star close to the edge of that small cluster of stars."

Hermione looked through the telescope, focusing on the various stars, searching through the clusters until she found the star she was looking for. "Oh," she said in surprise. "Thanks."

Hope gave a mocking salute in reply that made the brunette nudge her in the leg before she went back to marking her star chart, leaving Hope to meander back to her own telescope.

It really was a good night for looking at the stars; there wasn't a cloud in sight and the stars were bright against the impossible blackness of the night.

"Who names these stars, anyways?" Daphne asked as she marked Enif, which was also known as Epsilon Pegasi, the brightest star that made up Pegasus' muzzle.

"I dunno," Hope said, "maybe an astrologist?"

"Well, they're not very inventive," Daphne complained. "Look at this, who names the stars of the Square of Pegasus: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Alpha Andromedae? That's just so  _boring_! Imagine if we named stars like that!"

Hope watched the blonde witch rant with a bit of amusement, as it was one of the tells that Daphne really needed to get some sleep, because she wasn't usually that vocal about why stars were named the way that they were.

But they still had a bit more work to do before their lesson was done so Hope went back to her work.

* * *

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_

Hope found it distinctly uncomfortable to be used as the dummy for the other two to practice the spell on, but she had lost the coin toss, so here she was. With a wand drawn on her, and Hope wished not for the third time that lesson that she was a bit more lucky.

Unfortunately, Daphne hadn't completely managed the spell, so Hope could twist her head and tighten her hand into a fist.

"Hm, it looks like you didn't finish the wand movement correctly," Remus remarked, tapping his chin thoughtfully before undoing the spell with a wave of his own wand and Hope's stiff body relaxed. "Try again with more of a jab at the end."

Daphne drew up her wand once more, breathing out slowly before incanting the spell.  _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

She flicked her wand and the spell hit Hope like a punch to the stomach, startling but not painful enough to cause her damage, and then Hope couldn't even move her fingers or neck like she had before. This time, it seemed, Daphne had done the spell perfectly.

Remus released her from the spell.

"All right," Remus said, "Hermione, you're up again, give it your best shot."

The brown-eyed girl stepped forward eagerly. She had her hair bound in a tight French plait that she was quickly becoming obsessed with (every time she and Daphne showed up for their weekend lessons she would have one of them braid her hair for her) and she'd tucked a spare quill through the plait, which wasn't unlike how Hope tended to tuck her wand behind her ear.

Hermione raised her wand, determination glittering in her eyes as she said,  _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Hope grunted as the spell hit her, but it had no effect on silencing her mouth, despite that the spell was supposed to stop all movement barring the eyes. "You guys are getting a kick out of using me as target practice, aren't you?"

Hermione's eyes were wide an innocent, but that just made Hope trust them even less, while Daphne sniggered beside her, proving her question was just as accurate as she had originally thought.

Remus gave her a small smile as he released her from the spell once more. "Again, Hermione, then the two of you will switch so that Hope gets a chance to practice."

"She'll probably intentionally get it wrong," Daphne offered with a smirk and Hope pouted.

"You really think that little of me?"

"I really know you that well," Daphne said, rolling her eyes at Hope's expression.

Hermione lifted her wand once more, ignoring their idle conversation.  _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

It was said with so much force that Hope actually found herself immobile and on her back, where she had fallen against the ground.

She glared mutinously at Hermione who gave a small "Oops!"

"Well, maybe not so much intent," Remus admitted before conceding, "but well done all the same."

The counter-curse hit Hope and she reached a hand back to rub at her head, scowling at her friend. "I'm going to get you for that one," she promised.

* * *

The chilly weather lightened as they moved from April to May and swiftly into June. The sun shone brightly through puffy clouds and the sky was a clear crystal blue. Grass had begun to grow again and Potter Manor could be seen surrounded by nothing but greenery as far as the eye could see.

Though during Remus' first few transformations on the Potter lands he had ripped through a couple of trees and done a bit of damage, for the past few months it seemed that during the full moon he spent more time running around than demolishing the earth.

The trees were gaining leaves and flowers were blossoming when a familiar figure appeared on Hope's doorstep.

"Nice day for a walk, don't you think?" he asked her and Hope leaned against the doorway, arching an eyebrow at him for good measure.

"Grandfather," she said wryly, "you are aware that I have final exams in less than two hours, don't you?"

The god smiled at her. He was dressed as casually as he had been when they had first met with shades over his sometimes eerily dark eyes, his legs clad in denim, and with a shirt of a band that Hope didn't recognize.

"Which I'm sure you'll ace with no problem," Thanatos replied, amusement laced through his voice as he spoke, examining his fingernails as though they were far more fascinating than looking to his descendant, "given your previous grades."

Hope narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms at that sly remark. "Have you been checking up on me, Grandfather?"

"Me?" The god didn't try very hard to appear innocent, and his wide grin gave himself away. "Are you going to come on a walk with me, dearest? Or are you going to leave me to my own devices?"

Hope wasn't sure what a god of death could possibly get up to on her property when she wasn't around, but Hope would've preferred that her home wasn't dismantled.

She glanced back into the manor. Remus was still preparing for their practical exams and Daphne and Hermione hadn't turned up yet, since there was still another two hours before the exams began. Though, Hope had been planning to use that time to cram in a bit more information into her brain before her friends arrived.

_But…_

Hope contemplated her grandfather where he stood with a hand outstretched invitingly and with an easy smile on his lips. Thanatos didn't stop by all that often, and Hope did like it when he showed up.

"All right," she said, holding up a finger, "give me a few seconds."

She shut the door, skidding across the smooth marble in her socks while she searched for her boots and pulled a light jacket over her shoulders. Hope didn't know if the god had realized that her bronze curls were a clear adoption from his own, but she was sure it must have dawned on him.

"I'll be back in a bit, Remus!" she called, grasping the main door's knob, waiting for the werewolf to reappear in some state of confusion at just where she was going.

Sure enough there were a few hasty footsteps followed shortly by Remus coming into view with a distinctly harried expression.

"Hope? Where're you off to?"

"Just for a walk, don't worry," Hope assured him with a careless wave of her hand. "Grandfather's here."

Perhaps she should have started with that bit, given how her minder relaxed at the mention of Thanatos. Her grandfather was a bit odd, but Remus trusted him well-enough with his best friend's daughter.

"Make sure you're back before twelve," he said before making his way back into one of the rooms and Hope nodded, opening the door and stepping out into the bright sunlight.

Hope looped her arm through the taller man's as he led her down the steps off in the direction of the forest. "Reap any souls lately?" Hope asked, grinning up at him.

She was sure he was winking at her behind those shades of his. "Don't you know it," he chortled.

Hope hummed as he helped her cross over a stream, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why're you really here?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my many times granddaughter?" he replied easily but Hope was not fooled.

"Usually you drop by with a bit of cryptic advice," Hope responded dubiously. And giving cryptic advice seemed to be something that the god excelled at.

" _We all have events that must occur in our lives. One small change can cause a much larger one."_

"So what is it this time?"

Thanatos turned his head to glance towards her, raising his free hand to shift the glasses down his nose slightly so those solid onyx eyes of his could pierce her. "It has been a very long time indeed since someone has used Earth Magick."

Hope, unwillingly, tightened her grip around his arm, wondering if she was going to have to defend the obscure branch of magic to someone yet again.

"I'm glad," he said, surprising her, "there are some magicks that should not be forgotten."

"Wait…you're pleased?" Hope asked him, stunned by his words. "But, everyone else thinks that Earth Magick is a Dark Art and they tried to stop me from learning it." Or at least damper her enthusiasm for it until they'd read Morea's book on the subject.

"Earth Magick can be unpredictable and dangerous," Thanatos conceded, "but so are all magicks and those that use them. Earth Magick, however, was one of the first forms of magic-use outside the body and should be respected, not feared."

"So, you think I should keep practicing?" Hope asked him, the bright smile on her lips blinding.

"I think you should do whatever you wish," Thanatos told her. "It is your right to do what you wish."

She squeezed his arm gratefully. "Thanks, Grandfather."

He hummed in agreement.

* * *

Hope made it back to Potter Manor with plenty of time to spare, which was good, because as soon as she arrived, Hermione pounced on her asking her if she'd studied the importance of the International Warlock Convention of 1289 or who had been invited to the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, before Daphne managed to pull her off and tell her that all their brains were filled to burst with information so that wasn't really helping.

And it was only then that the brunette relented, though, then her hands moved to tug aggressively on the twin braids her hair had been plaited into (Hope wondered if Daphne had done that on purpose, knowing their ever-worrying friend would have an easier time tugging two than one).

"You'll do fine," Hope assured her.

"Don't tell me  _that,"_  Hermione hissed. "You say that and then I won't do as well."

"Well, who could top those  _below-par_  results we all got last time," Daphne interjected with heavy sarcasm and completed with an eye-roll.

"Oh, shut up," Hermione muttered, though the corner of her lips were twitching even as they entered into the room to complete the written part of their exams.

The written part was the easiest part, though, since all you had to do was recall information from memory, the practicals, she knew from when they'd taken them last during December, would be much harder.

But, one thing at a time. Hope had to finish the written exams first before she went on to the practicals so she let out a sigh, looking at the pile of parchment that Remus was handing out to all of them. Then she steeled her nerves and gripped her quill tightly, dipping it into the inkwell and pulling the first exam parchment towards her.

It seemed to take hours upon hours before Hope was finally free to leave and flop down on the couch in the drawing room, her writing hand aching from how much she'd written.

"Can we die yet?" Daphne groaned from the opposite armchair, practically disappearing into the cushions –or slipping onto the floor, whichever came first– with one arm thrown over her eyes.

"Not yet," Hope said, checking her watch. "We've got the practicals once Hermione's done."

Daphne's groan became just a pitch higher, but she was still grateful that Hope was the one who went into the potion practical first, and, in a way, so was Hope. The Metamorphmagus had been doing rather well in Potions, considering how poorly she'd done in their first year, barely scraping by with an A, something that made the witch very glad she'd found great-granddad Fleamont's notes for a reference ("It's not cheating if it works, Hermione!" "So you say!")

Charms and Transfiguration went as well as could have been expected and Hope was sure that she'd been docked a few points for some minor mistakes, but other than that, those exams went rather well.

Defense Against the Dark Arts went great and Hope had only made a small stumble in Astronomy (really, the two stars were so close together that it was almost impossible to  _not_  get them mixed up, it was hardly Hope's fault).

Herbology had her contemplating whacking her head against a pot full of a Mandrake, she would have to be very  _very_  lucky to have scraped by with an E on that one (unless she didn't do as bad as she'd originally thought, and that was also possible), but at least she managed to keep from stabbing her examiner with a trowel (she had a feeling Remus wouldn't like it very much).

And then, at long last, all three girls found themselves waiting in the drawing room on bated breath for Remus to finish grading their written and practical exams.

The silence was strangling but none of the three offered up any words to shatter it, so they remained in the silence, awaiting the footsteps that usually accompanied the werewolf.

It seemed as though an age had passed before they heard the sound of footsteps and then they were on him before he'd even entered the room.

"Whoa, there," Remus laughed, "calm down, here they are." And he handed them each a parchment and Hope practically snatched hers out of his hand, beaming at the grades there.

Three O's with the rest being E's…it was turning into a wonderful day.

"Congratulations," Remus told them all with a smile, "you are officially third year students."

And it was difficult to tell which of the three was more pleased by that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank the gods this chapter is done, I was honestly getting a little sick of it close to the end, mostly 'cause I thought shoving all of year two in one chapter was a good idea, but on the plus side, now it's done and we can get into the good stuff, maybe we'll even get to platform 9 ¾ by the end of the next chapter!
> 
> I don't think I'll update this fic again before the year is done, so this is probably the last update of Serpent Tongue for 2015, so happy holidays to all of you!
> 
> Since Cora asked, I did a direct family line from Morea Avis down to Hope Potter that's posted on my fanfic-tumblr: greygryffindor. I might do a more extensive version of the family tree if you all want it.
> 
> I think Looking Beyond might be next on the list, since that cliffhanger was certainly something; I'm making a lot of good time with my updates, which is great.
> 
> My Christmas Day one-shot will be called Convince Me and will take place in GoF when George tries to ask Hope out to the Yule Ball like Fred did for Angie in the movie but Hope turns him down. The fic will be of George growing increasingly desperate to get his girlfriend to go with him, lots of fluff, be on the lookout for it.


	8. Summer Daze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know several of you mentioned how the last chapter seemed a little forced, and it was probably because I wanted to get through the second year in a single chapter, which was, arguably, a better idea in my head, but it was better to get it over with in one go than anything else.
> 
> And we want to get to the good stuff, don't we?
> 
> And I wanted to get this chapter out before I started class, so I was all like, 'you're doing this Shini, even if it kills you'
> 
> Sirius won't be showing up yet, but you'll probably see Hope doing some research and questioning whether he was guilty or not.
> 
> Rantings of a Madman: I have absolutely no source material for Earth Magick –the same with Blood Runes– I can say it was inspired/based off the spells used in BBC's Merlin

It was in the tail-end of June that Professor Minerva McGonagall received a peculiar letter from an old student of hers that she had always been a bit concerned about.

With the world as it was and the laws that were in place, Remus Lupin, being a werewolf, had had difficulty finding a stable job after the war had ended. But she had just received word from him that he had spent nearly a year tutoring three students who hadn't even entered into Hogwarts so that they could jump two grades.

The information was nothing short of astonishing.

Three children skipping two years in one go? That hadn't been done in years and it wasn't recommended in the slightest…but _three_ had chosen that path.

Yet, it wasn't the most surprising thing about the letter, the surprising part had been that it was sealed with the Potter crest.

If she was betting woman, she would say that one of the three was Hope Potter, given how there were no other Potters still alive. But Minerva McGonagall wasn't a betting woman; she knew one of the girls had to be Hope Potter, it was the only reason that Remus could have been enticed to come back to Britain.

And the letter had included an offer for tea, in which Remus would give her the subsequent documents for the three students to be moved up two years.

(And if Minerva found it odd that he hadn't mentioned the three students' names, she didn't remark on it)

So Minerva McGonagall found herself out on a warm day in June in the middle of Wales as the sun shone down through trees, dappling her emerald robes in shadows from the leaves overhead.

She could not see the wards in place, but she knew not to pass them, given Remus' words in the letter, they were quite deadly. Minerva was a bit early, so it was likely that Remus didn't know that she had arrived, and for a moment all that she could hear was the distant sound of an axe cutting into wood.

Then the axe stopped and a few moments later a girl appeared in front of Minerva so suddenly that it couldn't have been Apparation.

She was young, ten or eleven, her eyes were obsidian and her hair a tumble of bronze curls hiked up into a high ponytail. With the axe over her shoulder and plaid texture of her shirt and the denim of her jeans, Minerva assumed she might be a hired hand, but there was something familiar in the shape of her eyes and the curve of her cheekbones.

"Can I help you?" the girl said with narrowed eyes. "This is private property."

"I was under the impression that Remus Lupin lived here," Minerva replied simply, arching an eyebrow. "He and I are to have tea."

She tilted her head, appraising the older witch. "You must be Professor Minerva McGonagall," she surmised, her eyes narrowing further as she glanced around her. "The old codger isn't with you, is he?"

"Old codger?"

"You know, the headmaster," she said airily, " _Dumbledore."_

Minerva was scandalized at anyone referring to Albus Dumbledore as an 'old codger' but clearly the young girl's opinion of him was rather low, so perhaps it was best to leave it as it was. "No," she said, "I'm alone."

"Good," the girl said, stepping to the side, "you may enter."

So Minerva stepped cautiously over the boundary, but, thankfully, nothing happened, and she was allowed entry into the Potter lands.

"It's a bit of a walk, so try not to move too much," the girl added, gripping Minerva's elbow and one moment they were in the forest and the next they were in front of the manor.

Potter Manor was very beautiful, its architecture old, with ivy climbing up it, it was almost like a chateau in appearance, but it was very lovely.

Minerva did not have time to question her about the magic she used to transport them so instantaneously, as the girl was moving again, bracing the axe against the manor's wall before opening one of the intricately carved double doors for Minerva to enter through.

"Mindy," the girl called, shutting the door behind them, "we have a guest."

A house-elf popped into existence wearing a tunic bearing the Potter's family crest. Her large eyes were wide and expressive. "Yes, Mistress," she said kindly and Minerva tried not to look taken aback by the address; that would make the girl Hope Potter…but she looked nothing like her parents!

"Remus is in the drawing room," Hope told Minerva, pointing to her left. "Mindy will bring you some tea."

Mindy gave a polite nod before speaking. "And Mistress, you is needing to change—"

"Yes, yes," Hope sighed, waving a hand carelessly, "I'll go do that directly."

The house-elf nearly glared at her and Hope grimaced. "I'll go do that _now,"_ she acquiesced, before turning to Minerva. "Enjoy your tea, Professor, I'm sure Remus will enjoy not being around children for a change."

Amusement tinged her face as she said that, the smirk so like James Potter's that Minerva couldn't help but compare the two before the Girl-Who-Lived turned on her heel to take up the stairs two at a time.

The drawing room was well lit Remus was sitting on the couch, spectacles perched on his nose as he read from a book. A cursory glance told Minerva that her old student was in good health; his cheeks shone with colour and though he had a few grey streaks strewn through his hair, he still looked far better than the last time she had seen him, which had been at James and Lily's funeral.

He removed the spectacles and shut the book, placing both on the small table beside the couch, smiling at his old professor as he pulled himself up to stand.

"Professor," he said, clasping her hand in his, "it's so good to see you."

"And to see you," Minerva responded earnestly, "the last time was under such sombre circumstances."

Remus' smile fell, recalling the day well. "Yes, it was."

"I'm glad to see you're doing much better," she added, glancing back in the direction that the girl had gone, "was that—?"

"Hope Potter? Yes, it was."

Remus sat down and Minerva followed suit.

"She's…" Minerva wasn't quite sure what to say. "She isn't quite what I expected."

"No, she isn't," Remus agreed with a bit of amusement. "But she certainly is a breath of fresh air."

"She was placed at her aunt's for her protection," Minerva said, "and I heard from a Muggle-born that she had run away and was living at a manor with caretaker." She gave her former student a shrewd stare as he cupped his chin, chuckling sheepishly.

"Well, none of that was a lie," he said, "Hermione prefers to be honest without giving too much information away, it's a habit she picked up from Hope."

Minerva gave him another look. "One of your students, I presume."

Remus smiled again, lifting a stack of parchments from the floor to hand them over to the professor. "Here is the paperwork for students Hope Potter, Hermione Granger, and Daphne Greengrass to skip two years of education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

It was an awful lot of parchments to look over, but then again, there were three students rather than the usual one.

Minerva pulled out her own spectacles. "Do you mind if I check them here?"

Remus made a careless wave of his hand, similar to what Hope had done earlier. "I don't have any plans for the rest of the –Hope where are you going?"

The young heiress had plopped herself onto the armchair and was currently pulling almost knee-high riding boots over her stocking-clad feet.

"To Malfoy Manor," Hope said in a no-nonsense manner. "Lady Narcissa asked me to tea when I was free, and I am free now…I mentioned this yesterday when the letter came, _remember?"_ Her eyebrows arched with the emphasis.

"Yes," Remus said dryly, "but why are you going to Malfoy Manor dressed like that?"

Hope did up the zippers on the boots before standing. Her eyes had changed from black to an emerald green and her hair was dark and secured in a bun that was artfully haphazard, thick curly fringe hiding her scar from view. The tunic she was garbed in was of the finest quality, as an heir to a Noble and Most Ancient House was meant to wear, with an emerald snake embroidered around the collar to rest at the breast in Acromantula Silk, with a sash around her waist of an identical emerald, and she wore similar dark trousers with it.

"She is taking me riding on Abraxans," Hope said and Remus opened his mouth to say something when she swept a black cloak over her shoulders and summoned Mindy, disappearing before he could say anything, and he settled back with a frown.

"Hope can be a bit difficult," he said to Minerva, who had watched the exchange silently but with good humour.

"Clearly she's inherited a bit of James' rebelliousness," she remarked and Remus chuckled.

"Yes, a good bit of it, I believe."

* * *

"Heir Potter, you look as lovely as ever."

Narcissa Malfoy was giving Hope a motherly smile, like she had when they had first met and Hope couldn't help but smile as she removed the cloak, giving it to the house-elf that had asked for it.

"My lady is far too kind," Hope replied smoothly, "my caretaker was a bit surprised by my choice in clothes."

A short amused giggle parted Narcissa's lips. "I take it they were not aware that you and I would be riding together?"

"No," Hope said, "I thought it might be best to spring it on him at the last minute." A fond smile graced her lips. "He worries about me."

"Being in the company of the family of a Death Eater?"

Hope looked up sharply, wondering if she had been so transparent, but Narcissa gave her a kindly smile.

"I can understand his reservations," she said, "Lucius has very singular views on the Dark and Light."

"Personally I've always thought Grey was a nice mix," Hope mused thoughtfully and Narcissa's lips curved further upwards.

"I agree, but your caretaker needn't worry, today Lucius took Draco with him for some business," she said, before gesturing to the young witch, "come, let me show you our Abraxans."

Abraxans were a breed of Pegasi and Hope had never touched a horse without wings, let alone one that did. And she couldn't remember any time that Dudley had shown an interest in horse-riding that she could have been purposefully excluded from, not that a horse could have borne his weight.

The Malfoy's stables were set a bit away from the manor, but were a tastefully elegant as the manor had been, with only three stalls for the Abraxans.

"Lucius, Draco, and I used to go riding together when Draco was younger," Narcissa admitted, "but not so much now that Draco is older."

It was clear that it was something she missed.

"This is Creon," Narcissa continued, patting the snout of a black steed with magnificent wings. "And those are Phoebe and Thanatos." Phoebe was a brown mare and Thanatos was pure white.

Hope reached out a hand to pat Thanatos' neck with a smile. The horse Thanatos, she found, was much easier to deal with than her grandfather Thanatos, and the horse didn't have a habit of speaking in riddles.

Thanatos blinked his large eyes at her and whinnied softly.

"Thanatos likes you," Narcissa remarked in amusement, "he doesn't like many people. Usually he prefers my husband alone."

"He's very handsome," Hope said, still in awe of the creature hanging its head out of the stall to greet her.

"He is," Narcissa agreed, her grey eyes glittering.

In a short matter of time Thanatos and Creon were saddled and Hope was leading Thanatos out of the stall gingerly while Narcissa was already astride her own steed, garbed in an outfit similar to Hope's only with the Malfoy family crest.

Narcissa coached Hope patiently until she found herself on her saddle. It was a little unnerving, she could not deny, feeling the creature's wings near her legs.

"I believe it would be best to remain on the ground, since this is your first time on an Abraxan," Narcissa added as Hope got used to the idea of being above ground but also being close to it.

"That would probably be best," Hope concurred, just a little breathless.

They started at a light trot before smoothing into a calm walk that hardly jostled Hope, allowing her to grow used to how it felt to ride a horse-like creature.

"So, tell me, Heir Potter," Narcissa said, "how are your studies going?"

Hope blinked, her thoughts having drifted with the pace of the Abraxans they were riding. "Oh –I've completed my second year of class and am due to begin my third at Hogwarts next term."

"Well done," Narcissa smiled, "not many can say they've done what you, Heir Greengrass, and Miss Granger have done."

Perhaps it was the compliment, or perhaps it was that Narcissa had referred to Hermione as Miss as opposed to anything else –such as speaking her name like it was poison, being a Muggle-born witch– but Hope couldn't help but feel uncommonly pleased.

"Yes," she said, "we're all glad it's over with and we can get a long break before school starts again."

Hermione and Daphne's parents had been quite pleased with their daughters' achievements over the year and had each celebrated their achievements.

"And now I have time to work on my own projects," Hope added.

"Anything of interest?" Narcissa prompted as Creon stepped over a thick branch that had been knocked down in a storm some number of nights ago.

Hope considered her. "I have developed a fascination with the Ancient Arts."

"Have you?" That sparked something in Narcissa. The Potter family had, as far as she had known it, been a stanchly Light family. They weren't the type to dabble in the Ancient Arts, whom many considered Dark, but Hope was a Slytherin as well as a Potter and the Ancient Arts were in her blood. "Which have captured your interest?"

And Hope positively beamed. Narcissa had to consider that not many would have approved of her interest in such things, and to have someone outside her close-knit network of friends and caretakers to inquire about her interest in the Ancient Arts without judgment surely meant something to her.

"Currently, I'm focused on Earth Magick," Hope explained with a bit of restrained enthusiasm, so as not to startle the older witch, "my ancestor Morea Avis was famous for her Earth Magick, so I had an interest in that first because she was so famous for it, but Blood Magick –in particular Blood Runes– sounds fascinating."

Narcissa hummed in agreement. "I delved into the Ancient Arts for a time when I was younger, Blood Magick caught my interest more than anything else. Magic is in the blood, after all."

Hope nodded, reasserting herself in the saddle.

"What about you?" Hope asked her. "What kind of magic do you specialize in?"

While Narcissa was a Lady of a Noble and Most Ancient House and had no need to hold an occupation with how much money her family possessed, she was still an educated witch.

"Charms has always held a special place in my heart," Narcissa mused. "I might have fancied myself Charm-master at one point, but life got in the way." Marrying Lucius and raising Draco had swept her away from those dreams, but she wasn't regretful; her life was pleasant, and she enjoyed the company of her family immensely.

"Maybe you will become one, one day," Hope offered with a smile.

"Perhaps," Narcissa conceded, turning the Abraxan she was riding gradually with Hope's following suit, circling them steadily back towards the stables.

"I thought we were going to ride a bit longer?" Hope asked her, a bit flummoxed.

"Ah, and leave our tea to cool, Heiress Potter? I think _not."_

Hope couldn't stop the peals of laughter bubbling from her lips at the words. In truth, she found horse-riding to make her a bit sore, but, then again, she wasn't very used to it, and she was grateful when she could hop down off of Thanatos' back, patting at his neck as she led him back into his stall.

Narcissa led her back into the manor and into the drawing room which was a tastefully decorated as the parlour had been, and Hope wasn't surprised. If nothing else, the Malfoys had very fine taste.

The lady of the house gestured to the free couch for Hope to sit down on, taking care not to practically sink into the cushions, like she usually did in her own home. She curled her legs and locked her ankles in the manner that Mindy had drilled into her whilst Narcissa snapped her fingers and a house-elf appeared bearing a steaming teapot.

"I hope you don't mind Earl Grey," Narcissa said as the house-elf poured his mistress a generous cup, handing it to her before pouring Hope some as well and then disappearing in a loud crack.

"I don't mind," Hope assured her, "personally, I've had a bit too much of the Jasmine Tea."

"Not a bad choice," Narcissa concurred, taking a small sip, looking over her teacup's rim to her guest, who was looking around the room in fascination as she sipped from her teacup. "What is it?"

"It's nothing, Lady Narcissa," Hope said, her eyes shifting from the room to her host. "My home is just a bit darker than yours…and yours is inspiring me to make a few changes."

Curtains were, for the most part, drawn shut and shadows were nearly always present in Potter Manor. Hope didn't necessarily mind the shadows, as there had been a time when shadows had once been her friends as she crept around when the Dursleys were all asleep.

"I take it that it's been some times since someone lived in your manor?" Narcissa asked delicately.

Hope's lips twitched. Narcissa didn't quite know what kind of home Hope lived in, and it was easy to assume that an heiress lived in a manor, as it was typical of those from old families.

"My grandparents, Lord Charlus and Lady Dorea were the last, since my father and my mother lived together after they graduated from Hogwarts," Hope agreed before taking another gulp of the tea, ignoring how it scorched down her throat. "Sometimes it feels more like it's still their home, rather than mine." It was a feeling that Hope had always had. The manor was so _big_ and…it was just her, Remus, and Mindy…there were so many rooms that Hope didn't touch and had never been in.

"Perhaps you should make yourself more at home there."

Hope forced her attention back to the present as she blinked at the Lady Malfoy. "In what manner, my lady?"

"Something of your own design," Narcissa said gesturing around the room as an example, "when I first married my husband I made the manor my own through decoration…perhaps you could do something similar at your own."

"Perhaps," Hope agreed, contemplation flooding her face as she drained her teacup and set it back on the small tray. "Thank you for the tea and the suggestion."

It was true that Hope hadn't been at Malfoy Manor but she still felt a bit uneasy about remaining in the manor when there was a chance of Lucius Malfoy returning at any moment and though Hope did like Narcissa, she did not hold the same feelings for the Death Eater. And Narcissa could understand her feelings and be respectful towards them.

So the blonde-haired witch replaced her cup of tea on the tray as well before leading her guest back into the parlour once more where her house-elf had popped suddenly into existence as though silently summoned.

"Thank you, Lady Narcissa," Hope gave a short bow –not a curtsy, Narcissa was amused to note– before taking the cloak the house-elf had offered her, sweeping it up and over her shoulders. The movement shifted the thick fringe over her brow and for a brief moment Narcissa could see the faint outline of her scar, but then the fringe fell back into place. "Perhaps one day you will come to see my home."

It was custom to offer one what you were offered by them, and Narcissa appreciated the sentiment, especially given her family's background.

"One day," she agreed. "Until then, Heiress Potter."

Hope took Mindy's hand and the disappeared in a sharp crack.

* * *

"Mistress should change for dinner," Mindy said, taking the cloak from her mistress once they returned, Apparating directly into Hope's room as opposed to the front door, hanging up the cloak in her large wardrobe (large, mostly, because of how little clothes Hope had compared to the sheer number of books she possessed).

"Do I have to?" Hope asked, not caring how whiny she sounded. Her tunic was tasteful and it wasn't like she needed to wear her robes all the time.

Mindy cast her a reproachful glance and Hope muttered something under her breath that made the house-elf prod her leg with a bony finger, something that Hope found to be not all that comfortable.

" _Fine,"_ Hope grumbled, riffling through the clothes on the hangars before giving up and opting for the denim and plaid she'd been wearing before and if Mindy disagreed with her choice in clothes, she certainly didn't mention it.

Then she descended the stairs to enter into the drawing room to see Remus still sitting with Minerva McGonagall, though it seemed they were nearly finished with all the paperwork that was required in order for her, Hermione, and Daphne to skip two years.

Minerva McGonagall, Hope knew, had been the Transfiguration professor and her parents' Head of House when they'd been in Gryffindor during school, and was the Deputy Headmistress under Albus Dumbledore. But she wasn't quite what Hope had been expecting with her hair spun into a rigid bun with a perpetual stern expression on her face.

But she looked fairly competent, taking her at face value, though she wouldn't actually know that until she had spent some time in her classroom.

Both looked up when she entered the room to sit down on the armchair in the corner of the room and she smiled as the tension in Remus' shoulders eased, making it clear just how worried about her he'd been.

"Had a nice time?" he asked her.

"I'm going to tell Grandfather that there's an Abraxan named after him," Hope said, resting her cheek on her hand, her lips twitching. "I think he'll get a kick out of that."

Remus gave a small chuckle, though the professor could only look on in confusion, and Hope very dearly wanted to say "Oh, Grandfather, you know, the god of death, Thanatos?" She'd probably be carted off to the magical hospital faster than she could finish that sentence.

"Yes, I think he would," Remus hummed in agreement, his eyes twinkling as he gestured towards the older witch sitting at his side. "And, since you were in such a hurry before, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall."

Hope scrutinized her with narrowed eyes for a brief second before giving the witch a slight wave of her hand. "Hello," she said. "I'm Hope Potter."

"Oh, I know," the woman said with a sad smile that made a muscle jump in Hope's jaw. "You look very much like your mother."

Hope didn't agree. But Hope hadn't grown up seeing a face like hers as a student or a friend. She didn't wince every time she saw her reflection like Remus had when they had first met. Hope Potter was a Metamorphmagus with hair in tangled curls, sharp cheekbones, and an angular face that she'd inherited from her parents. She had a scar like lightning on her forehead that she'd inherited from a Dark Lord. She had a love for Earth Magick and Blood Runes that she had inherited from Morea Avis.

A crease appeared on her brow. "I look like myself," she said instead.

And the smile the professor gave her was one of understanding before Hope had Mindy drop her beyond the borders (burning the parchment that had listed nearby coordinates; call Hope paranoid, but she didn't fancy the idea of anyone coming round that she didn't approve of, especially if they were Albus Dumbledore).

"What d'you think of flowers?" Hope asked Remus once his old professor had gone and the werewolf blinked in surprise.

"For dinner?" he asked, a bit flummoxed by her question, and that actually coaxed a laugh out of her.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "I'm thinking of building something related to flowers…besides, it's your pick for dinner, remember?"

He rolled his eyes and ignored her as he pulled the newspaper towards himself.

* * *

The next morning Remus was gone by the time she made her way downstairs with the sketchbook she used to draw runes into before she'd been too busy during tutoring (which was frankly a bit of a tragedy).

But Hope wasn't worried once she caught sight of the scrap of parchment on the dining room table bearing Remus' untidy scrawl that simply said: _Went out, hopefully will be back by lunch –Remus_

Hope scrutinized the parchment, arching an eyebrow before shaking her head, pulling out a jacket and her trusty boots. She stuck a pencil behind her ear and grabbed up an apple before making her way outside tossing a yell to Mindy to tell her where she was, and if Mindy needed her for something, she would at least know where to start.

She pursed her lips as she walked with her head tilted back, focusing on the treetops, in particular, the highest reaching treetops, which, consequently, were the ones with the best view.

Tree-climbing had always been something she was good at, and it was something that she blamed Margery Dursley for, with that psychotic dog of hers that had enough sharp teeth to send a younger Hope up a tree (not cowardice, just self-preservation) faster than most could blink.

But Hope was gaining an appreciation for all things that grew now that she was doing more research into Earth Magick, so even if she hadn't had some (negligible) skill in tree-climbing, she still would have been up a tree.

Now the difficulty would getting up the tree with her sketchbook, apple, and without losing the pencil she'd tucked behind her ear.

Hope frowned in contemplation, but she was always up for a challenge. So she stuck the apple in her jacket's pocket and lodged the sketchbook gently in her mouth, which probably wasn't the best course of action, but Hope needed both her arms to climb, so it would just have to do.

(Retrospectively, she could have shrunk it down to fit in her pocket as well, but Hope had left her wand at her bedside table and by the time she considered that she had already begun to climb)

The fir tree had more than enough branches for Hope to slowly weave her way up, looking back at the ground every so often. Hope wasn't afraid of heights, not really, but she doubted that she'd even been as high as she currently was. The highest she'd been before was when she was hiding from Dudley and found herself on the school roof (which was somehow a reason to punish her and not the little idiot that had chased her, forcing her to end up on the roof).

It didn't take her nearly as long as she thought it would have when she found herself on the top branch, locking her body carefully around the small trunk as she pulled the sketchbook from her mouth before flipping it open to blank page, pulling her pencil free and looking down on the manor.

She could see the pillars and the rustic colour of the bricks, she could see where the roof was flat and where it was slanted, she could see the balcony that connected to her room, its curtains billowing in the light breeze.

So Hope took the pencil and sketched out the rough outline of the house. She wasn't much of an artist, that much was true, but she didn't have to be, as this was just to help her figure out where she wanted to build what she planned to build.

There wasn't much around the back end of the manor, barring the greenhouse that was close to the side rather than the back, which left a lot of room for Hope to consider, and once she'd finished the rough outline sketch of the manor and the greenhouse all she could do was tap her lip thoughtfully with her pencil.

Perhaps she could make a bench swing…so she could read and do her research outside when it was nice out…and she could plant flowers around it, like lavender and roses and orchids and irises and…basically whatever kind of flower she remotely liked.

Hope bit into her apple as she etched charcoal across the page, drawing out a poorly sketched bench with some not very well drawn flowers strewn around it.

"Sounds like a plan," Hope murmured to herself, taking another bite of the apple before shoving it back into her pocked and climbing her way down the tree, only this time one handed, as she kept one hand on the sketchbook.

And when her feet were back on the ground once more, she was rushing inside to grab her book on Earth Magick before returning to the spot that she wanted to build the bench and then she knelt in the ground, opening the book and flipping through the pages, looking through the words that Morea had written carefully for beginners in the art to start with.

 _ **"Pánkos kataskevís** ** _,_ " **_she breathed, the green of her eyes glowing briefly as she used the ancient magic, pressing the palm of her hand down to the ground and for a moment nothing happened, but the next second something shot out of the ground so fast that Hope had to recoil sharply in surprise, covering her face with her hands in an effort to protect it and when she removed them, she had to stare.

In front of her was a swinging bench carved from wood, gnarled and perfect and Hope couldn't help but grin.

"Mindy!" she called and the house-elf appeared quickly at her side, and if she was surprised by the sudden appearance of the bench, she didn't mention it.

"Yes, Mistress Hope?" she said with a short bow.

"I think this bench is in need of some cushions."

"Of course, Mistress," she said without so much as a blink. "Will Mistress be taking her lunch on the terrace or inside?"

"I'm thinking on the terrace," Hope hummed in contemplation, scrutinizing the bright grass from the sunlight and the recent rain. "Want to bring out a table?"

"Mindy would be happy to, Mistress," Mindy promised before snapping her fingers.

A table appeared atop a small area of stone, with two chairs joining it, and with the cushions moulding to the bench.

"What would Mistress like for lunch?" Mindy prompted Hope as the girl took a moment to gaze around.

"Hm…something with fish?" Hope suggested.

Mindy was so used to her vague orders that she said nothing about it, only giving Hope a short nod before returning to the kitchen to begin working on the lunch and Hope returned her attention to making flowers grow around the bench she had just grown from scratch.

Stems grew from the earth, sprouting flowers of violet, white, red, and anything in between. There were so many flowers that she was sure that when Remus arrived home he would have to wonder if he had come to the wrong manor by mistake.

But for now Hope could relax on the bench, prop her legs up, and continue reading from that book of hers.

* * *

Remus had known what to expect when Dumbledore had invited him back to the castle. He was sure that Minerva would have told him at least that Hope was one of three students skipping two years of schooling and that she was safe under the care of an old family friend.

But Remus had a feeling this was more than a courtesy call and he waited patiently for pleasantries to end and for his old headmaster to get down to business. And though he was very grateful for all that Albus Dumbledore had done for him, he had picked up some of Hope's cynicism about him regarding how she had come to live at the Dursleys.

"I hope you are well, Remus?" Dumbledore said politely, popping a sherbet lemon into his mouth.

"Tutoring pays very well," Remus responded easily, and he wasn't wrong. He had tried to refuse Hope's money, since he was staying in her home as well, but proof of payment had been required in order for him to teach them all, and the Potter and Greengrass families had footed the bill (much to Hermione's exasperation but also to her parents' relief).

"Yes, your three students, young Hope Potter, Hermione Granger, and Daphne Greengrass," Dumbledore nodded his head with a speculative glint in his eye. "An odd grouping, don't you agree?"

A Muggle-born girl fascinated with every type of magic imaginable, a Pure-blood girl from a Grey family with a head for politics and a love for old magic, and a Half-blood girl from a Light family that loved the Ancient Arts and ancient history. Frankly, there didn't seem to be all that much odd about them, but he might be a bit biased, after all, he had taught them all for months now.

"Sir?"

"It's Hope Potter that concerns me the most," Dumbledore said and Remus couldn't halt the tension spreading across his shoulders.

"In what manner?" he asked carefully, thinking of the time Hope had been so distracted in her reading that she had walked right into the wall and had sworn so bad that Mindy had been scandalized.

"The wards around the Dursleys' home were absolute," Dumbledore explained. "There is nothing stronger than Blood Wards."

"Those wards never existed," Remus said coolly, as the matter had been explained to him once by Thanatos himself. "Yes, being a blood-relative is one of the requirements of the wards, but familial love is also needed, which is why the wards failed to work and why they broke so easily after Hope left."

The twinkling in his old headmaster's eyes faded entirely. "I'm afraid I must _insist_ that Hope return to her family's home."

"And I'm afraid it would be my duty to inform you that Hope is already at her family's home where there are more than enough sufficient wards to keep her safe." Remus stood with the use of his cane (the next full moon would be on them within a few days time and he could already feel a weakness in his leg), sweeping his cloak around him –new and not patched from so much use– and giving the old wizard a short nod. "Good day, Professor."

And then he was gone, leaving Albus Dumbledore with a small amount of annoyance.

If only he hadn't taught Remus Lupin legilimency, then perhaps he would know the location of where she was staying at.

She should have been kept at Number Four Privet Drive and she certainly should never have become friends with someone from a Grey family that so often leaned towards the dark…

* * *

"Lunch is on the terrace, Mister Remus," Mindy called from the kitchen as soon as Remus arrived back home and he called a thank you back to her before taking the back door out into the sunlight, and then he had to stare because he did indeed for a moment believe he'd stepped out of the wrong house.

There was a lovely swinging bench surrounded by flowers, so many flowers, with new vines running up the side of the building with small flowering buds, especially around Hope's balcony.

But Hope was still there, sitting at a table that had been set up not too far away, reading the front page of the Daily Prophet. Today her hair was a red much darker than her mother's, closer to spilled blood than anything else, but her eyes were the same impossible green (Remus had a feeling she liked that colour the best for her eyes) when she looked up as he joined her, lifting the paper with a smirk. "Apparently the Aurors have been looking for me for months, can you believe that?"

"Have they?" Remus asked, faintly surprised as he sat down, taking the paper from her.

 _Girl-Who-Lived Missing!_ The bold words declared. _After several long months of tireless work, the Aurors have still found no sign of the missing defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a fact which was only recently discovered by the concerned Daily Prophet. Potter is believed to have been taken from her home despite the protective wards surrounding it, yet no trace of her has yet to be established anywhere…_

"I think Grandfather might've done something," Hope hummed thoughtfully, "it seems like something he would do."

Remus had to agree with her there, the elusive and godly grandfather of hers did have a habit of keeping her safe and he was the one that had explained to her about what she was.

"Maybe I should give some sort of statement and explain that, you know, I haven't been kidnapped or anything," Hope contemplated.

Remus' eyebrows arched high on his forehead. "You want to give an exclusive interview to the Daily Prophet?"

"There have to be better reporters than Rita Skeeter is all I'm saying," Hope said, scowling at the woman's name.

She had done some research of the newspaper back when her parents had first gotten engaged and a young reporter had falsely speculated about the reason for their marriage right out of school –which wasn't all that rare, in fact, it was rather common– and for her father's marriage to a woman of lesser status. It was incredibly low and Hope was insulted that it had ever managed to be published.

"There probably are," Remus agreed as Mindy came out bearing two plates that smelled heavenly, "but Rita generally takes centre-stage…but if you do want to give an interview, I won't stop you, but you will have to be _careful_ about what you say."

"You mean I shouldn't make it obvious how much I detest Dumbledore?" Hope asked him archly before smiling at Mindy and thanking her.

"Yes," Remus snorted, "that…or at least make it _dislike_ and not _detest_ , Dumbledore is rather well-liked in Britain."

" _Wonderful,"_ Hope muttered under her breath, cutting up the salmon before pausing as she gazed upon him with narrowed eyes. "Did he ask you to go and see him? Was that why you were gone when I woke up?"

Remus took a moment to swallow his mouthful of pumpkin juice before offering her an answer. "Yes," he admitted, "Dumbledore asked me to speak with him."

Hope breathed out sharply before spearing one of her salmon pieces and chewing furiously for a moment before swallowing and asking, "Well, what'd he say?"

Remus winced and Hope snorted. "That bad?"

"Well, he wanted you sent back to the Dursleys where you could be protected—"

Hope released a loud guffaw of laughter at that. " _Protected?_ I'd like to see him run headlong into my wards and come out fine!"

Of course, Hope had inherited those wards but she was sure that one day when she'd learned a bit more about wards she might be able to add a bit more to them, but they were already a bit lethal, so it wasn't something to be too concerned about.

"Besides, the Dursleys were bad for my health," Hope grumbled under her breath, stabbing at her potatoes.

"All right, don't think about that, then," Remus said, tapping a finger against the table. "There's something you've forgotten about."

Hope stared at him strangely. "What?"

"Your birthday, Hope," Remus nearly sighed. "Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks and you haven't told anyone what you want."

"Oh, that," Hope said, drawing out the word, "I'm not really particular, get me some books, I guess."

Remus' eyebrow rose and he gave her 'the look'.

"All right," Hope muttered, "I kind of fancied a broom since I've never been flying before…but, you know, if it's not too much…"

Remus just smiled at her fondly. "Now if James were hear he'd be halfway to the shop by now."

Hope flushed.

"Tell you what, if your interview goes well, I'd be more than happy to buy you a broom for your birthday," he told her with a smile, and the beaming grin he received in return was positively radiant in comparison.

Only James' daughter would be so excited about flying.

* * *

Barnabas Cuffe, Editor to the Daily Prophet, looked over the parchment that confirmed the identity of the girl sitting politely in front of him.

This was Hope Potter with her done up in a bronze knot, her green eyes clear, and her lightning bolt scar obvious on her forehead.

"Miss Potter, forgive me but I thought the best course of action would be to ascertain you were in fact who you say you are."

"That's fine," Hope said, waving a careless hand, "I understand rumours of my… _disappearance_ have gotten out of hand."

That was one word to describe it.

"And I am flattered that you chose us at the Daily Prophet to interview you," he continued politely, "and you will, of course, be given the opportunity to choose an interviewer of your choice." Getting an exclusive with Hope Potter was the kind of interview that could make a career, and he knew better than to pressure a golden goose.

"Thank you, Mr. Cuffe," Hope said before he led her out into the chaotic office area and Hope had to stare at the sheer amount of people working and talking and rushing about.

Mr. Cuffe gave a loud piercing whistle that grated at Hope's hearing, but made all the chaos stop briefly, all the attention towards him and his very young guest.

"Who wants a chance at interviewing Hope Potter?" he asked after clearing his throat and practically every hand in the room shot right up.

"I've got this one, boys!"

Hope turned stiffly to arch an eyebrow towards the one that had spoken and she was by far the most ridiculously dressed woman she had ever seen with her red-painted talons (far too long to be nails), obnoxiously magenta robes, and bejewelled spectacles.

There were several voices bemoaning the loss as Hope spoke, "Rita Skeeter?"

"That's right, darling," the woman said, sickly sweet and Hope tried not to gag.

"I'd rather endure the Fields of Punishment," Hope told her shortly, incurring a short giggle from one of the other reporters and Hope's eyes moved towards the one from whom the noise had come.

She was easily one of the youngest there, if not the youngest, wearing a denim jacket with brown hair swept into a high ponytail and blue eyes shining with amusement. She was clearly more comfortable in Muggle attire than wizard, and Hope couldn't fault her for that; sometimes robes were downright uncomfortable.

Hope pointed at her. "What about you?"

The young woman started in surprise. "You want me to interview you?" She couldn't have made it plainer that Hope's response was the last thing she'd been expecting. "But I just started work here a few days ago."

"Which is why a more experienced—" Rita was cut off and Hope couldn't have cared less.

"Well, you're currently the only one not looking at me like I'm a piece of meat, so, yes, I'd like to have you interview me."

"Oh, all right then," she gathered up some rolls of parchment and an enchanted quill before leading the younger witch into a private room for the interview. "I'm Selene Jacobs," she added once Hope was settled. "But you could have picked anyone else…"

"You got my reference of the Fields of Punishment."

Selene gave her a small smile. "My dad was a bit of a nut about Greek myths, I'm guessing you like them?"

"All the way," Hope grinned. "So, how does this work? You just ask me questions?"

"Pretty much," Selene agreed, pulling out the parchment that the enchanted quill hovered over, preparing to write. "The quill's enchanted, but it's not like a Quick Quotes Quill, so it won't embellish or write unfavourably, just the facts. Ready?"

Hope nodded.

"A statement was released earlier concerning your disappearance. Can you explain how anyone could have considered you to be kidnapped?"

The quill scratched the question out and Hope cleared her throat.

"Well, I _did_ run away last year, which is probably why it was assumed that I'd been kidnapped. It was probably easier to consider that I'd been kidnapped than voluntarily left," Hope said, scratching her cheek thoughtfully.

"What made you want to run away?"

Hope frowned. "After my parents were killed, I was placed in the care of my mother's sister, and her family and an unfortunate disgust towards all things magical, me in particular. If I was better at something than their son, I was punished, if I didn't do as I was told, I was punished. Leaving was a much healthier option for me."

Selene took in her words in a bit of surprise. "So your guardians were Muggles?"

"Yes."

"And do you think that as a witch raised by Muggles that magical children should be separated from their non-magical parents?" Selene asked; it was a rather endless debate that she wanted to hear Hope's view on.

"Oh, _gods no_ ," Hope said, startled. "One of my closest friends is a Muggle-born and her parents have been nothing but supportive. I think it depends more on the person than anything else. My mother's sister's family cared very much about what others thought and I just didn't fit into their ideal."

The quill scribbled before coming to a sharp stop.

"And where you are now, do you fit in?"

"Immensely," Hope said with a full smile, "and I'm well cared for."

Selene nodded. "As the only child of a Lord, I take it you are ingraining yourself into what has been famously coined 'Pure-blood society'?"

"A good deal, yes," Hope agreed with a bit of amusement at the word choice.

"And what's it like to learn all about magic and history and etiquette when you're already ten years old?" Selene prompted the young witch.

Hope's brow wrinkled as she contemplated her answer. "Well, it meant that I had to learn a bit more than other children of lords, I expect. They were used to it, it was something they grew up with, but I'd barely known about magic a week before I started learning all that."

"So when did you find out you were a witch?"

"I was told by my grandfather when he found me in a Muggle library looking up books on magic," Hope explained, "because by that time I'd noticed there were odd things going on around me, but I wasn't quite sure what I could call myself, so he explained."

"Your grandfather?" Selene prompted.

"Well, he's more of a distant relation than a grandfather," Hope acquiesced, "but he didn't mind me calling him that."

"Is he your guardian now that you've left your aunt's home?" Selene asked, and if she found it odd that Hope didn't mention her aunt as her aunt, only her mother's sister, she didn't mention it.

"Oh, gods no," Hope snorted, waving her hand carelessly as she did so, "he's far too busy, but he does pop in on me from time to time, usually to give me cryptic advice." She twisted the thick opal ring on her finger.

Selene caught how she didn't want to mention who was her current guardian, so, wisely, she drifted away from that.

"Do you have any views on the magical government? Positive or negative?"

"I think there are some laws that need to be seriously revised, particularly ones that limit the rights of those who suffer from lycanthropy, for one."

"And why do you feel that way?"

"Because punishing someone for something they can't control is just cruelty. I get that there are some bad werewolves out there, but there are also ones that just want to make a living," Hope insisted, "taking that away from them is taking away their rights."

Selene smiled kindly at her while the quill caught up to her words. "How do you feel about the fame surrounding you as the Girl-Who-Lived?"

"I think it's ridiculous," Hope snorted, rolling her eyes for good measure, "revering someone because a Dark Lord couldn't kill them or failed to kill them is the strangest thing I've ever heard."

And it was. Hope was beyond glad that Potter Manor was situated so far out in the countryside that she hadn't yet had to deal with anyone calling her that, apart from Remus' initial explanation of the title that had been attached to Hope Potter.

Hope Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived…was the Girl-Who-Didn't-Die-From-A-Killing-Curse-That-Should-Have-Killed-Her too long?

"I guess you spend a lot of time at home, then? Away from prying eyes?"

"Most days," Hope agreed, "but I was a guest at the Ministry's Winter Gala."

"And did you enjoy that?"

"I enjoyed hanging out with my friends," Hope corrected.

"Are you looking forward to going to Hogwarts for the first time?" Selene asked her.

"Yes, I am, I hear it's quite something, the castle, I mean."

"And are there any subjects you're looking forward to?"

"Ancient Runes," Hope said without missing a beat and Selene blinked, looking at her and then back at the scroll.

She knew all too well that Ancient Runes was a third year course yet Hope would be going into her first, but she didn't mention it, continuing with her questions.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore read the lines that had been printed under the bold title: _Exclusive: Hope Potter Speaks Out._ His mood grew steadily more sour as he read Hope's responses to her interviewer's questions (Selene Jacobs, a Ravenclaw that had graduated just last year with a love for reporting, and he was sure her name would be on the map now with the exclusive).

This was not what he had wanted, this was not what he had wanted at all.

She should have remained at Number Four Privet Drive, she should have stayed under those Blood Wards, because no matter what Remus Lupin believed, Albus was sure they were still functional, as long as he got her back there within the next two years, he was sure they would be as strong as ever.

But there were already so many things concerning about Hope Potter's behaviour.

She should never have befriended that Pure-blooded Grey witch, she should have made friends with one in one of the Light families, like the Weasleys or Bones'. The Greengrass family was worrying to him, but Hope could be weaned off Daphne Greengrass.

The second girl didn't concern him, seeing as she was a Muggle-born with no Dark or Grey leanings, but he'd keep an eye on her just in case.

Yet there was something else that worried Albus.

Hope Potter was a Metamorphmagus…which wasn't a bad thing, especially when one took into account that the last Metamorphmagus that had entered into Hogwarts had been Nymphadora Tonks, a Hufflepuff that had graduated just last year. No, it was the fact that Black blood was so strong in her, as that was the line from which Metamorphmagi were born. And the Black line was quite famous for being Dark; the marriage between Charlus Potter and Dorea Black had been surprising enough.

If he moved swiftly, his plans wouldn't have to be altered _too_ _terribly_ …there were already things in motion that he hadn't planned for and it was giving him a headache.

There was something about her that reminded him of Tom Riddle, _the boy who made all the wrong choices_ …and using the Daily Prophet certainly was a clever move, she both confirmed that she was safe and well, but also gave her the opportunity to voice her beliefs on certain matters.

It was a Slytherin tactic, Albus was sure of it, but she would be sorted into Gryffindor, just as her parents had, she would want to live up to their memory, and Remus' who had looked after her for months now.

He knew it would have been better if she wasn't jumping two grades, but there was little he could do about that; the paperwork had already been filed.

So long as he kept darker elements away from her, he could turn her back towards the Light.

* * *

By the time July 31 rolled around, Hope was positively ecstatic, particularly because it meant her friends would come round for her birthday.

Daphne had been in Germany on a vacation of sorts with her family and Hermione had been catching up on her book reading, but seeing them again after so long –and it felt like _forever!–_ was great for Hope.

They ate birthday cake out on the terrace –chocolate and baked specially in the shape of the rune Mannaz that looked somewhat like an arch and meant intelligence, creativity, and skill– before giving Hope her gifts.

Daphne had gotten her some books on the Ancient Arts that must have come from the Greengrass library and her parents had sent her with crystal earrings, while Hermione had gotten her another sketchbook for her runes and a book by JRR Tolkien that Hope hadn't read yet, _The Silmarillion_ , and Hope was looking forward to reading it. Remus' Nimbus 2000 had Hope jumping up and down in excitement and Narcissa's delicate chain of sapphires was most unexpected, but she liked it all the same.

Once the gift-unwrapping and cake-eating was all concluded, they were ready to go to Diagon Alley with letters in hand. It had been decided before they'd arrived that once everything was done they'd go ahead and run to Diagon Alley to get their things for next term, so Mindy popped Hermione back to her parents' to hop in their car and meet Hope, Hermione, and Daphne at the Leaky Cauldron.

"There's no way anyone would want this many classes," Daphne decided fervently as they walked down the street, glancing down their supply lists. _"Unfogging the Future?_ Divination? _Really?_ You could find more substance in the _Sibylline Books!"_

"Weren't the _Sibylline Books_ sought after, though?" Hope prompted only to grin when Daphne ignored her.

"Well, you won't be going to the class, so you don't have to worry about it," Hermione responded snippily, giving an exaggerated huff. "Besides, I do _not_ have too many classes!"

Both her friends gave her identical dubious expressions at that. "Hermione," Hope said carefully, "I'm pretty sure you're taking every optional class you can…do you even have time to do all this?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione insisted with gleaming eyes, glancing around briefly before pulling up the golden chain she had dangling around her neck to reveal the small hourglass at its end.

Hope didn't have the faintest idea what it was, though clearly Daphne did, shooting a hand out to grasp it in complete surprise. "I don't believe it," she said, "who was mad enough to give an eleven year old witch a Time-turner?"

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said proudly, a growing smirk on her face. "I had a meeting with her and she said it wouldn't be the first time a Time-turner was used for schoolwork, but she made me promise only to use it on schoolwork, or she'd have to take it back and I'd have to drop some classes."

"Yes, heaven forbid you'd have to drop some classes," Hope said dryly, to the amusement of the adults trailing behind them, "how _scandalous."_

Hermione jabbed her in the side.

"Now who's going to explain to me what a Time-turner is?" Hope asked, throwing a hand out to her side and clipping the bloke who was walking in the opposite direction, nearly causing him to drop the books in his arms.

"Oh, I'm so _sorry!"_ Hope apologized quickly. "I wasn't looking where I was going!"

She was practically pooling in embarrassment, but the lad gave her an easy smile that lit up his blue eyes.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, "I'd probably would have run into you sooner or later."

That coaxed a small smile out of Hope as she shook her head as the ginger-haired boy moved to rejoin his family not all that far away.

"He was cute," Daphne mentioned when he was gone and Hope smacked her side with her arm.

"That was so embarrassing, imagine if he'd _fallen!"_

"She'd probably find it funnier," Hermione snorted, and Daphne's grin was positively devilish.

"She's right, it would have been _hilarious!"_

Hope scowled at the blonde-haired witch. "You know, I'm not entirely certain what possessed me to think that befriending you was a great idea."

"I'm sure you're aware that we're all a little bit insane," Daphne nearly sang, throwing an arm around Hope's shoulders and drawing her thumb and pointer finger close together to show how insane they all were.

"Oh, for the love of the gods!" Hope bemoaned. "Let's just get our books, all right?"

"Don't worry, I'm rubbing off on you," Daphne assured her.

"That's not necessarily a good thing," Hermione interjected with a bit of amusement.

"Depends on the day, really."

And they all laughed before entering Flourish and Blotts, eager to begin the next stage of their life, eager to begin their first year at Hogwarts, which was consequently their third year of school.

And Hope thought she was far better off than the girl that had been living at Number Four Privet Drive just last year, and for that, she was glad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Another chapter done! And for all of you that felt like you were going through Geope withdrawal, I give you a brief interaction between the two. Remember, this relationship is going to be more developed as friends first, so there won't be nearly as much flirting as there was in Looking Beyond.
> 
> Dumbledore's having some issues with how he wanted Hope to turn out, but too bad.
> 
> I hope you all liked the bit with Narcissa, Hope is still a newbie at using 'polite speech' but Narcissa is very kind and I'm looking forward to showing her motherly side in this fic.
> 
> Acromantula Silk belongs to Elle Roche and ExcentrykeMuse's fic Of Power and Prestige.
> 
> I guess that means that next chapter we're heading off to Hogwarts, eh? ;)
> 
> I can't wait until Dumbledore and Hope officially meet, oh it's going to be glorious!
> 
> I don't know what'll be updated next, but its likely to be A Shift in the Force ;)


	9. The Inevitable Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a long time since I updated Serpent Tongue, and I'm sorry about that but I was kind of focusing on completing Looking Beyond, but now it's done, I can start updating Serpent Tongue again.
> 
> (This chapter would have definitely been up sooner if I hadn't been distracted by the webcomic Check, Please! But oh well)
> 
> I think I may have confused some of you with the 'I figured I'd run into you at some point' comment George made to Hope. This is because he's carrying a lot of books and was about to collide with her side, not because he knows who she is, he doesn't have any idea who she is.
> 
> The girls will be rooming in the third year dorms.

It was late into the night on July 31, but Hope Potter was still awake in her room, even after Remus had long since gone to sleep.

The day had been very nice, she couldn't deny that, it had been the first birthday she'd had where the day itself wasn't entirely ignored like it was when she'd lived with the Dursleys. The Grangers had been very kind even though they'd hung back with Remus so that the girls could have their fun.

Hope fiddled with the latch on her new trunk, flipping it open. The trunk itself was lovely to look at, and even though it was new, it had that distinct worn-in quality that Hope liked, with spiralling black designs over the rosewood. HP was stamped on one side of the trunk and ES on the other.

The reason Hope liked had little to do with the fact that it was nice to look at, and more to do with the fact that it had several compartments within the trunk through the use of an extension charm. The shopkeeper who had sold it to her had told her the type was typically favoured by those that were Aurors, but Hope just wanted a place to put all her books.

She yanked the library compartment up before pulling her letter from Hogwarts back towards her.

The envelope had read: _Miss H. Potter, Potter Manor, Wales_. Which had made Hope a bit uneasy, but it was enchanted to reach the witch or wizard it was addressed to, regardless of if their address was known or not, and no one other than Ragnok, Hope's friends, Daphne's parents, and Remus knew exactly where the manor was located (even Minerva McGonagall wasn't quite sure about its location, since the coordinates she'd been given were slightly off).

Hope read the letter again:

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY** _

_**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE** _

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)** _

_Dear Miss Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign._

_Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

Hope had thought it was a bit ironic that they were awaiting her owl by the day she'd actually gotten her letter, but she'd sent a reply back that very morning by the same owl that had brought the letter to her.

_**Uniform:** _

_Students will require:_

_Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

_**Course books:** _

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _Intermediate Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

 _Numerology and Grammatica_ by Norma Rodgers

 _Spellman's Syllabary_ by Silenius Serebus

 _Application of Ancient Runes_ by Athene Zakros

_**Other Equipment:** _

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope set_

_1 brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

It had looked a bit to Hope that the letters to Hope, Hermione, and Daphne had been a combination of what was sent to first years, and what was sent to third years. Obviously, the girls had never been to Hogwarts, so the uniform was something they had needed to be made aware of, and the other equipment had been just in case they hadn't already any of it.

Hope riffled through the books she'd bought that day, pulling out the ones on the list that were new to her (which was: _Application of Ancient Runes_ , _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ , _Numerology and Grammatica_ , _Spellman's Syllabary, The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3),_ and _Intermediate Transfiguration)_ and placing them on the shelves in the trunk before searching her room for the other books she'd already had and shelving them beside the other books only to earn a sharp hoot from the corner of her room and Hope turned to grin at the snowy owl that she had taken to when they'd gone into the Eeylops Owl Emporium for an owl for Daphne, but Hope had yet to give the female owl a name.

"Well, what kind of name do you want?" Hope asked her. "Something Greek?"

The owl gave her what she was sure was the owl-equivalent of a lip curling in disdain.

"All right, then, I'm sure I'll come up with something Hope sighed, pulling _History of Magic_ out of the trunk, flipping through the pages to toss out names to the owl.

"How about Athela?"

"Bronte?"

"Cleva?"

"Edmonda?"

Hope could safely say that she had never met an owl quite so opinionated, though it was also safe to say that she didn't have any other experiences with owls to compare it against. By the time Hope had reached the various female 'H' names within the book, she was about to give up.

"All right, what about Hedwig?" she asked a bit despondently.

But the owl, to her surprise, gave a pleasant hoot, which was probably the best response Hope had received concerning possibly names for the owl.

"You want to be called _Hedwig?"_ she repeated a bit dubiously, surprised that the stubborn owl (how could she be considered anything less when she'd gone through a good twenty names before coming to a stop at Hedwig) had made a choice before Hope had even fallen asleep.

The owl made a noise of agreement, flapping her wings up to her perch once more and Hope rubbed at her eyes tiredly; it was much too late in the night for Hope to be dealing with this.

Hope muttered a complaint under her breath before stuffing the book back into her trunk once more and pulling the covers over her head, forcing herself to ignore the world and fall asleep.

And the last thought that brushed her mind before sleep overtook her was: _"It's far too red."_

* * *

The next morning found Remus awakening to chaos, which was saying something because the chaos only usually reigned when Daphne and Hermione were over, and he was quite certain that Hope would have, to the very least, mentioned if her friends were coming over.

He only realized it was something else entirely when he opened his door to blink blearily at Hope in the corridor wearing her plaid and denim like she was off to chop some more lumber (though they had far too much at this rate), her hair short and spiky and an odd shade of turquoise.

"Up and at 'em, Remus!" she called. "It's cleaning day!"

"It's _what?"_ Remus replied blankly, his eyes shifting from his friend's daughter to the house-elf following after her; Mindy gave a helpless shrug.

"Potter Manor is far too dreary for my tastes," Hope informed him, the mop over her shoulder balancing a bucket full of what looked to be full of rags and soapy water. "It's a house not a _mausoleum_ , so we're going to brighten it up and clean it up, and throw out some things."

There was no denying that Hope had clearly felt like she was living in someone else's house, that had always been a bit obvious, but Remus had never felt it was in his place to comment on it. He was only a guest in the manor, after all, and it was only at Hope's request –as well as a desire to keep an eye on James' headstrong daughter– that he remained. Yet somehow it had actually become, in a way, his home too.

"How does Mindy feel about that?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow and Hope looked towards the house-elf whose face hadn't changed in expression.

"Mistress has the right to redecorate," Mindy said primly and Hope gave Remus a look that said: _"So there!"_

Still, it was a bit spur of them moment.

"What brought this on?" he queried.

Hope's eyes grew distant briefly, recalling the conversation she'd had with Narcissa, about how she should make the manor her own. Then her lips thinned. "I will not be a guest in my own house," she said determinedly with a daring glint in her eyes.

It was hard to tell which she looked more like in that instance, James or Lily, but Remus knew her expressions far too well by now to consider them anything but her own.

"Well," he said, "I'm going to take a shower so I'll meet you ladies when I'm done."

"We'll be in the drawing room," Hope informed him, all bright smiles and eager eyes, dancing away, the bucket swinging precariously on her mop (did she even need the mop? Mindy kept Potter Manor very clean, after all), somehow managing not to spill any of its contents.

* * *

All things considering, it wasn't all that much that Hope really wanted to change, after all, she loved things that were old, and if there was one that that Potter Manor, it was old.

The Potters had clearly never been ashamed to call themselves Gryffindors, and it showed in the furniture and the paint on the walls and the door knobs. It seemed to be a bit much to her.

The drawing room was one that Hope had always liked the way it was; it was undoubtedly one of her favourite rooms in the manor, even with the red of the pain plastered to the wall. She only had Mindy replace the carpeting with one that was slightly lighter in colour. She didn't mind that room being so red, especially when the colours went together so well.

Her room, on the other hand, needed some serious changes.

Because Hope Potter's absolute favourite colour was blue and she could only take so much of the red.

"Obviously some of the rooms can stay red," she was saying to Mindy with the manor's blueprints spread out in front of her, "but I don't want all of them to be red, can you, I don't know, vary the colours a bit?"

Hope had never redecorated a house before and she was floundering a little, half knowing what she wanted and half having no idea.

"What colours would mistress like?" Mindy asked her patiently, something that Hope couldn't help but admire her for.

Hope looked around her own room, its walls lighter and bluer than they had been an hour ago. The blue wasn't dark but it wasn't bright either, which made it the best colour, particularly for Hope.

"Whatever ones you think are best," Hope said after a long moment of realizing she had absolutely no idea what colours she'd like.

Mindy gave her a kindly smile. "Perhaps Mistress would like to go out for a bit while Mindy makes the changes?"

"Go out?" Hope said blankly. "Go _where?"_

Mindy's thin shoulders rose and fell. "Miss Daphne mentioned Corinth Crossroads. Perhaps Mistress would like to go shopping?"

Hope blinked in surprise. Corinth Crossroads was the Greek equivalent of Diagon Alley, only much more rustic and less regulated, as the British Magical Government liked to control what was being sold. They sold almost everything that money could buy, from food to books to furniture. Daphne's Nana took her and Astoria there to buy them gifts when they went to visit her and Daphne really liked it.

The next second Mindy blinked and Hope was out of the room shouting to Remus: " _Remus!_ We're going shopping, come on!"

Mindy allowed herself an amused chuckle.

* * *

Corinth Crossroads was bustling with business, but the street wasn't nearly as narrow as Diagon Alley's so it was easier to meander through the crowd, Hope's eyes shifting from one shop to the next with avid interest.

She kept her arm looped through Remus', though that was more for his benefit than her own because the chances of Hope getting lost in the crowd were incredibly likely and Mindy wouldn't thank him for that.

The sunlight was shining down on them when Hope dragged him to a stop before a divination shop with a bit of interest in their wares. It was true she had never had much faith in divination, as she'd read a few books on the subject when trying to come up with which electives she should take for third year.

But she couldn't deny that she found the idea of using tarot cards or rune stones to predict the future a bit interesting.

She picked up a deck of those very cards, thumbing through the cards with interest. They seemed a bit worn, clearly second-hand, which explained why the asking price was so low. Then Hope's eyes caught on a black bag, full of small hour-glass shaped pieces of something that Hope would swear to be bone, into which was carved a rune, one on each piece.

Hope paid for them eagerly before leaving with Remus in tow, glancing down to her in a bit of amusement.

"And here I thought you didn't have much of an interest in divination," he remarked with a light snort.

"I'm a girl of mystery," Hope said, rolling her eyes and grinning for good measure and subsequently crashing into a red-haired girl who was speaking in rapid Greek into a compact mirror.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the girl apologized, grimacing as she shut the compact, her eyes wide, looking over Hope for any kind of damage. "I wasn't looking where I was going, my brother—"

She was clearly very harried, so Hope just said: "Don't worry about it, I have a tendency to run into people without meaning to."

The girl smiled sheepishly. "I'm Aggie Blackwood," she said and Hope's eyes widened.

"Hope Potter," she said, "you mean like Damian Blackwood?"

Aggie arched an eyebrow. "I guess you like pirates?"

"Pirates?" Hope said flummoxed for a brief moment before realization dawned. "Oh, that's right, he was the first mate on _the Siren_ before he married Nelda Slytherin, wasn't he? Sorry, all I knew was that he's at the top of my family tree."

She missed Aggie's look of startled surprise as she dragged Remus off at the sight of a wondrous couch that she simply _had_ to _have_ , ignoring his "Hope, where on _earth_ are you going to put this?"

Aggie pulled out her compact to mirror-call her mother.

Thalia Blackwood picked up in seconds. "Aggie, darling, aren't you supposed to be with your brother?"

"He ditched me to snog Dianthe," Aggie complained. "But, Mum, I thought there weren't any more descendants of Nelda Slytherin."

"What're you talking about?" her mother asked in confusion.

"I just ran into someone claiming to be descended from them," Aggie said, "someone named Hope Potter."

* * *

Thalia Blackwood didn't make it a habit to summon her ancestral grandfather, but today she would make an exception.

"Speak with me, Thanatos," she murmured once the incantation had been spoken and the centre of her palm burned.

"You always ask me so nicely, darling," came his honeyed reply and Thalia wasn't even surprised to see the god appearing from within the shadows. "How may I be of service?"

"Aggie met a peculiar girl today," said Thalia, her eyes sharp and her tone shrewd. "A girl who claimed to be the descendant of Nelda Slytherin and thus _you."_

" _Ah."_ She could honestly say she had never seen a god look quite so awkward but Thanatos was doing an admirable impression.

"Why don't you tell me a little bit about little Hope Potter?" Thalia said, an eyebrow arched as if daring him to deny her and Thanatos gave a very put-upon sigh.

* * *

Hope woke up early on September 1, far too early. The sun wasn't even close to rising but Hope couldn't help but be filled with a jittery sensation. And for a brief few moments she wanted nothing more than to just be home schooled with Remus as her single teacher.

She remembered what it was like going to school with other students, even if those ones weren't magical. She knew what it was like to be looked at differently. Back then she'd been poor orphan Hope Potter, always accused of something yet nothing that was able to be proven. How many times had she been used as a scapegoat every time she did better on a test than anyone else? How many times did bullies trip or walk into trees that they would swear had just sprouted from the earth?

Hope sat in bed for the longest time, clutching her grandmother's book, _Magick of the Earth_ , to her chest as though it was some kind of shield, her heart hammering in her chest and an anxious buzzing in her ears.

The sun had still yet to break over the horizon when she finally pulled herself out of the bed to flick on the lights and gather her clothes up to make her way into the bathroom.

Hope had learned a great deal from the Dursleys about hiding how she felt deep on the inside, so when she looked in the mirror, she wasn't too surprised to see that the nervousness didn't really show. She was a little pale but Hope had always been a bit fair, so that hardly counted.

So she stepped under the spray of water, letting its warmth roll over her shoulders, releasing their tension and soaking through her hair.

It would be different, going to Hogwarts, that much she knew with certainty, because she, Hermione, and Daphne would be two years ahead of their age groups, and that itself would draw plenty of attention. And it didn't really help that Hope was still exalted with the name 'The Girl-Who-Lived' which she found more aggravating know that she realized how much thrall her name appeared to hold over the British Magical Community.

If there was a day to hate being Hope Potter, it was today.

And then there was no guarantee that she and Hermione and Daphne would all end up in the same house at Hogwarts, and Hope couldn't imagine what it would be like if they were all in separate houses, then it'd be even less likely that they'd end up in the same classes at the same time (barring Hermione, of course, taking as many electives as possible).

Hope rinsed her hair out one last time before pulling herself out of the tub to get dressed.

Once she'd dressed in her school robes ("It's probably better if you go there in your robes the first time around," Remus had told her, "that way you won't have to worry about changing on the train with everyone else. Of course, most go to the station in Muggle clothes, as it attracts less attention, but it's up to you."), she worked on her mess of tangled hair.

Mindy had gifted her a brush that could fix hair into a number of ornate styles, which, Hope supposed, was her way of trying to keep her looking like the heiress she was while Hope was at school, and in a matter of seconds she had her hair knotted up into a curly plaited bun.

Hope frowned at her image reflected in the mirror before tugging a sprig of lavender from the bouquet resting on her desk and spearing it through the bun, then she nodded approvingly, opening the door and heading downstairs.

The house was quiet and cold, but Hope had expected that, after all, it was rather early in the morning; no one was really expected to be awake yet.

When she made her way into the drawing room, the first thing she did was put a log in the hearth shortly before lighting it, before picking up her copy of _The Hobbit_ which she'd left lying around, the bookmark just short of falling out.

She cast her eyes towards the grandfather clock in the corner –which was, ironically, a gift from Thanatos, which also explained why there was a rather morbid carving into the wood depicting a skeletal man in robes clutching a scythe– but she had a few more hours, at least until Remus awoke or Mindy started on breakfast.

* * *

The time passed slowly until Remus joined her in the dining room for eggs and sausage. He looked worse than Hope was feeling, which was rather impressive, to say the least, but, then again, the full moon would be upon them that very night, which he would be spending without her.

It made Hope want to linger; she'd grown far too used to Remus' presence over the past year and she knew she was going to miss him and Mindy something fierce.

"Are all your things packed?" he asked once he'd swallowed enough pumpkin juice to bring him a bit more awake, but the clear exhaustion in his voice made Hope take a long drink of her own before answering.

"Pretty much," Hope said, "Hedwig's enjoying as much time as she can get outside of her cage."

Remus gave a light chuckle at that. "That owl is very opinionated."

"Hedwig's got more class than you, old man," Hope sniggered and his lips curled upwards into a smile as he took one last bite of the food before him (it looked to Hope as though he couldn't stomach very much of it, but she didn't comment) before checking his watch.

"The train doesn't leave until eleven," he said, "but I've found that most tend to show up within the last hour, so you might have more luck snagging a compartment showing up a bit earlier."

"That's the plan," Hope sighed, digging her palm into her eye as she yawned. "Hermione and Daphne are showing up sometime around nine or ten."

"Then we'll want to leave soon," Remus said before casting a wary eye over Hope. "Hope, did you stay up late again?"

"I'm an early riser," Hope said, skating around the question, pulling herself out of the chair to head upstairs and grab her things, leaving Remus to shake his head in exasperation.

* * *

The morning was crisp and cool, the breeze fluttering Hope's light coat as she walked on.

They got a few odd looks as Hope had her trunk and everything else she'd brought with her, including one disgruntled snowy owl who would have rather been flying free, after all, why would an eleven year old girl be bringing an owl to a train station, but Hope did her best to ignore them.

The typical black robes that students wore at Hogwarts were tucked into the top of her trunk, because that would be a bit more difficult to explain.

"You are going to go through the barrier between platforms nine and ten," Remus said and Hope balked slightly, twisting to look at him with a stunned expression.

"Through the barrier?" she repeated dubiously, eyeing the bricks and knowing running into bricks was going to do more damage than anything else.

Remus gave her a smile before cocking an eyebrow. "It's a gateway to the platform, Hope, you didn't honestly think that a station platform taking Wizarding children to and from a _magical school_ would be out for all theMuggles to see?"

A hot flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. She hadn't really looked up to much information about Hogwarts (she had _Hogwarts, A History_ , of course, but she hadn't read too much of it) but she hadn't really considered how she was supposed to really get to Platform Nine-and-three-quarters, especially since platform numbers were rarely anything but whole.

Hope coughed loudly to hide her embarrassment, but it didn't help very much and she could hear Remus' light laughter. "So, er, just walk through it and that's how you get to the platform?"

Remus gave a nod of agreement and Hope considered the wall briefly but Remus had gone through it before so he would know better.

Hope took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the handle before moving forward. She didn't run, but she did walk very fast and one second she was outside the barrier, pressing her cart against brick, and the next second she beyond it and staring in a bit of awe.

She was on a different platform now, one that had a scarlet steam engine waiting to depart, steam disgorging from the smoke stack on top of it. There were a number of people on the platform, nowhere near as many as she was sure there would be closer to the departure time, some of them students and their parents, others wearing uniforms, helping get trunks situated.

" _Whoa,"_ she said as Remus made his way through the barrier to join her. "I wasn't really expecting it to be this big."

Remus probably would have said something, maybe even laughed, but at that point she caught sight of Daphne standing not far away.

"Daphne!" Hope directed her cart forward, a bright smile on her lips, one that Daphne was quick to return when she saw her coming, giving her friend a wave.

"Hi, Hope!"

Daphne was standing with her younger sister and her mother and father, all blonde and beautiful, making Hope glad her default hair colour was black.

"How was Greece?" Hope asked her as she came to a stop with her luggage, still grinning.

"Warm," Daphne said, while Remus greeted his old schoolmates. Atreus Greengrass, who hadn't seen Remus even during the time that Daphne was being tutored by him, spoke kindly to the werewolf, asking him what he'd been up to. "You and Hermione should come sometime, the manor is big enough and the sea is amazing to swim in."

"Ugh," Hope groaned before giving Astoria a small smile from where she was tucked into her sister's side. "I didn't even think about swimming, but I did some redecorating at the manor, so I was a bit busy…I did visit Corinth Crossroads, though."

"It's cool, right?" Daphne said, her eyes glittering. "'Storia got some pretty sweet earrings from there, she never takes them off."

Astoria giggled, tucking a loose blonde lock behind her ear to expose the bronze-shaped arrowheads hanging from her ears.

"Nice," Hope complimented. "I like it a lot better than Diagon Alley…it's got a more, you know, rural feel."

"That's why Nana likes it," Astoria piped up.

"There they are!"

Hope and Daphne turned to see Hermione rushing forward, cheeks flushed with colour and eyes holding an eager light. Her thick curls had been tugged into a tight French braid and Hope got the feeling that finding Hermione without her hair in a French braid would be a rarity (it had the added plus of both keeping her hair out of her face while she studied and controlling her sometimes unmanageable curls).

" _Hi!"_ Hermione threw her arms around both her friends once she got close enough with her mother following after her, a little thrown by the platform that she hadn't known existed until a moment ago.

"And here I was thinking you were going to be ridiculously late," Hope said dryly with a laugh, flicking the end of Hermione's plait as she did so.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why would I be late? I had everything packed the night before!"

The girls all laughed before Daphne said in a doubtful tone that was so clearly faked: "I don't know, you probably kept forgetting to add some books and had to keep going back for them."

Hermione glowered and Hope was sure that Daphne had hit the nail on the head with that one. "I've spent too much time with you two."

Hope smirked and Daphne sniggered.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Hope drawled before squeezing Hermione's elbow to draw her attention towards Hope. "You know what we should do next year, go to Corinth Crossroads together!"

Hermione's brow furrowed briefly. "Is that the Greeks version of Diagon Alley?" she asked after a moment of gathering her thoughts and remembering the phrase from something Daphne had mentioned before.

"Only better," Daphne said with Astoria bobbing her head in agreement. "Right, Hope?"

"Oh, I _so_ need to go back," Hope lamented with a sigh, "they had a bookshop I didn't really get to look at…"

There was a sudden spike of jealousy within Hermione. "You two went together?" She kept her voice level, so they didn't notice anything off about the way those words were spoken.

But Daphne shook her head, swinging the arm of the hand that was linked with her sister's. "'Storia and I went with our Nana when we went down for a visit –she likes to spoil us–, I think Hope was looking for some ways to redecorate the manor."

Hermione's jealousy faded as her eyes widened. "You're redecorating the manor?" she said, startled. _"Why?"_

It was a well-known fact by now just how much Hope loved old-fashioned things, which explained a great deal about so many things about Hope. Still, Hermione couldn't imagine Hope voluntarily changing Potter Manor when she loved it so much.

"Too much _red,"_ Hope said with a shudder. "I mean, I'm sure that there have been a lot of Gryffindors in the family, but I'm descended paternally from Salazar Slytherin, so some of the red just had to go."

"So you decided to paint your house green?" Hermione repeated dubiously and Daphne laughed beside Hope as the green-eyed witch wrinkled her nose in aggravation.

"I put Mindy in charge of the colour scheme," she said decisively. "There's still some red –and beige, I suppose–, but now there's also some blue and some green, not bright green, obviously, I think Mindy would have had to put her foot down about that."

Hermione just shook her head in exasperation. It was good, at least, that Mindy had an eye for interior design.

Atreus and Remus were getting the last of the girls' things situated in the compartment they were standing before and it was only then that Daphne and Hope noticed the wicker basket Hermione was holding, and only because a plaintive meow left it abruptly.

"You got a cat?" Daphne asked, eyebrows arching as she bent down slightly to look into the wicker basket with difficulty, but it was impossible to see the type of cat.

"Early birthday present," Hermione said brightly, "and also for jumping two years. Mum and Dad were both so proud that they let me get a pet."

"I got Hedwig," Hope said, jerking a thumb towards the compartment where Hope's trunk had been situated high above the seats and with Hedwig restless in her cage beside it. "She's a classy lady."

Hedwig gave a hoot of agreement that made the girls laugh.

The number of people preparing to board was increasing now that they were getting closer to departure time. There was now a pleasant buzz of noise from the gathering people, greeting old friends and saying long goodbyes to their families.

Hope wrapped her arms around Remus' middle and he gave her a tight squeeze of his own. "You'll look after yourself, won't you, Hope? Going to Hogwarts is a big adjustment."

"I know," Hope said, "but I'm good at looking after myself, Remus, you know that." After all, she'd managed fine without him keeping an eye on her for awhile. Remus thought it was best not to point out that she'd had Mindy looking after her during that time. "I'll owl a lot, I promise. I'm sure you'll find a way to keep busy, though."

Remus gave her a smile in return. Tutoring had paid very well, that much was true, but he was considering taking on some jobs in the Muggle word while Hope was away at school, because he knew that no one in the Wizarding one would willingly hire a werewolf.

"I'm sure I will," he said, telling her none of his plans, but knowing she wouldn't disagree with him, it was more likely she'd get steamed again about the laws restricting werewolves. "I'll see you at Christmas. And I won't say to stay out of trouble, because I find that very unlikely given who your father was."

Hope's eyes glittered hazel as she released him, making to follow Daphne and Hermione aboard when a red-haired lad cut swiftly in front of her.

Scrutinizing eyes cast over him. "Didn't I walk into you in Diagon Alley?" she queried out loud and the boy turned around, surprise in his blue eyes.

"Probably was my twin," he decided after a moment of trying to recall if he'd been walked into by someone looking like Hope.

Hope's eyebrows rose. "Sweet Hestia, there's _two_ of you?"

The boy snorted. "Identical, yeah, I'm Fred Weasley by the way."

Hope nodded, but she didn't give her name, something that appeared to amuse him as he stepped onto the train with her following after. "First year?" he guessed.

"Third," Hope corrected with a sigh. "My friends and I did two years in one."

"Sounds like a terrible idea," Fred said, an expression of incredulity crossing his face.

Hope shrugged.

"Oi! Fred, over here!"

Down the corridor Hope could see a boy identical to the one she was speaking to.

"That's my twin, George," Fred said with a wink, "he's probably the one you ran into, don't worry, I'm more memorable."

Hope laughed as he made his way towards his brother and she ducked into the compartment where Hermione and Daphne were getting situated.

"Was that the bloke you almost knocked over in Diagon Alley?" Daphne asked her shrewdly.

"His twin brother actually," Hope responded, sitting down beside Hermione. "Identical twins, can you imagine that?"

Hermione shook her head. "There's a reason I'm a single child."

"Why mess with perfection, right?" Hope grinned widely and Daphne rolled her eyes, being the only one of them who had a sibling. Hermione snorted as the train began to move forward.

"So," Daphne added, ignoring what Hope had said rather effortlessly, "what did you end up getting at Corinth Crossroads?"

Hope ticked off on her wings, "Oh, some lamps, an old chest, a _really_ cool couch, a pentacle pendant—" She pulled the pendant in question out from under her neckline in order to show it to them. "—some candles, a couple cool-looking flasks, a few herb bundles…"

"What're you doing with herb bundles?" Daphne asked bemused.

She received a shrug in reply. "There's a section on smoke cleansing in my book of Earth Magick, so I figured I might as well buy some, I mean, they might just sit around in my room, or I might try to purify the house."

"Does your house need purifying?" Hermione asked. She had read the _Magick of Wicca_ extensively since Hope had gifted it to her back when she turned eleven, and there was a short few paragraphs concerning the use of herb bundles.

"Well, I don't think it's the first time that people have died in it," Hope muttered, the fringe curled over her brow, hiding her scar from view gained a blue streak briefly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cranky meow coming from Hermione's wickerwork basket and Hermione started, making sure their door was latched before undoing the one on the basket, allowing the cat out into the compartment.

It was rather odd-looking, Hope had to admit, now that she could see it clearly. It was ginger with thick fur and a squashed-looking face. Hope couldn't quite recall ever seeing a cat that looked that way this one did.

"This is Crookshanks," Hermione said glowingly as the cat hopped up to her lap, plopping itself down there, giving off the distinct impression that to move would be too much effort. "I was going to get an owl, but then I saw him, and, well, he's mine now." She ran her hands through his fur, earning a rumbling purr from the cat.

"Besides, the school's got owls you can use anyways," Daphne pointed out and Hermione hummed in agreement.

Hope diverted their attention by snapping her fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot, I got some rune stones and a deck of tarot cards."

"Isn't that for divination, though?" Hermione mentioned. "You don't really like divination."

Hope gave a loud cough. "I don't like _some_ divination," she conceded, "it's not exactly a solid subject—"

"And it's a bit of a joke at Hogwarts," Daphne interjected.

"I don't like prophecies," Hope corrected.

"I had a great-great-aunt or so who was an oracle," Daphne said, arching an eyebrow, "Phemonoe Greengrass."

"Yeah, but if someone makes a prophecy about something else then they're going to end up doing it, aren't they?"

"This has to do with some mythology doesn't it?" Hermione considered with narrowed eyes.

"All right, consider this, there's this bloke named Acrisius who is told a prophecy that he will have no sons and his grandson will kill him, so he locks his daughter in a tower –long story short, Zeus sires a son by her named Perseus, but the king doesn't want to kill his daughter so he locks them in chest and sends them out to sea and years later Perseus kills his father accidentally by a flying discus."

"You know far too much about the Greek myths, if you ask me," Daphne said.

"I'm descended from Thanatos, it's hard not to," Hope said blandly. "My point is, prophecies are made and then people expect them to be true because other people try to stop them and then cause them at the same time. I mean, that's _basically_ most of what happened in Ancient Greece. Prophecies are like bad omens, knowing too much about the future is never good, but rune stones and tarot cards don't give that much away and usually a bit _vaguer."_

They fell into a short stint of silence while the other two contemplated Hope's reasoning; she had never had what anyone would call remotely _normal_ views.

Hope watched the plains darting past the window as she looked out it, the train moving steadily farther and farther from the centre of London. It was going to be a long ride, so she settled in, leaning her head against the window, the glass cool against her cheek.

She faintly heard Daphne asking Hermione if she wanted to play a game of chess before she pulled out her grandmother's book once more, opening to the page that she had stopped on.

Normally she didn't like very much to read while moving, but the train rolling over the tracks wasn't nearly as jerky as she had imagined it would be, so it didn't give her a headache as she read the words that had been so carefully etched with quill and ink:

_Earth Magick is, at its core, the truest of the Nature Magicks, spells can be drawn from the surroundings or from within the caster. But there is more than one type of magick use than incantations and potions. Divination is an art that is so often led astray, but it still falls in line with Earth Magick. Rune stones and tarot cards are the most common usage of this art as tea leaves and crystal ball readings can be misread. Rune stones and tarot cards involve focusing one's magick inwards to draw out particular events in the future. It is true that they cannot be taken completely as fact, but rune stones and tarot cards have proven far more reliable than prophecies…_

* * *

They were interrupted briefly by a young boy named Neville who had apparently lost his toad and Hermione offered to help him look for it, disappearing for a short amount of time only to come back annoyed saying: "None of those prefects thought to use the summoning charm!"

"That's not until third or fourth year," Daphne had pointed out, "the question is why do you know what it is?"

Hermione's cheeks had pinked. "Because I looked ahead, _obviously."_

Then they'd been interrupted by a woman bearing a trolley holding an assortment of sweets, but all three girls passed, as they'd been sent on the train with packed lunches, but it didn't help that Hermione's parents were dentists and they didn't like her having too much candy in case that resulted in her having cavities.

Then they'd descended into silence once more, mostly because Daphne put away the game of chess, curling against the side of the compartment as she fell into a doze; Hope presumed that she must have woken up a little too early too. Hermione, on the other hand, grasped one of the books piled at the top of her trunk to read while Crookshanks manoeuvred from his new master to Hope's lap, no doubt because of Hermione's sudden movement.

Hope gave a small smile as the cat rubbed its face against her hand as she scratched lightly behind its ears.

Time passed slowly and it seemed like an age had passed before they started to come remotely close to the school, and even then Hope couldn't see it. The sun had fallen and the night was young, with the sprinkling of stars across the sky clear to see. Trees stretched up towards the sky and mountains hid a few stray clusters as the train moved past them slowly.

By that point Hope and Hermione had abandoned their books to focus their attention out the window, even as Daphne slept on, only to jump –with Daphne being startled awake– at the sudden voice echoing through the train as though via an intercom but Hope could find no trace of anything similar within the compartment. _"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time_ ," the voice said _. "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."_

Hope had almost forgotten about her anxiety up to that point, distracted by her book and her friends, but now it was coming back in full force, making her stomach roil, her hands turn clammy and her fair complexion gain a pallor. Thankfully, Daphne and Hermione looked similarly anxious as they drew the curtains shut to pull on their robes. Hope and Hermione only had to pull the black robes over their uniform, but Daphne hadn't bothered wearing them to start with, so she had to change out of her things and into the school robes completely.

When the train had finally stopped, Hermione had just managed to fix Daphne's tie while Hope coaxed Crookshanks back into his basket, and then they all clamoured out of the compartment and into the packed corridor before stepping out into the cool air.

They'd pulled into a train station bearing the sign Hogsmeade, which Hope remembered as the place that Remus had once taken her for lunch in a pub called the Three Broomsticks, that, and she'd had to have Mindy and Remus sign a permission slip to allow her to go on weekend trips into the village.

But they didn't have too long to marvel because a gruff voice called over them: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Hope couldn't help but balk at the sight of the man. He was a giant of a man, standing at –Hope would wager– more than ten feet, with thick bristly dark hair and beard, wearing a large overcoat, his lantern swinging violently as he held it high above their heads, a smile clear on his face. "C'mon, follow me –any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" And then he led them away.

"Wow," Hermione muttered, impressed. "He is _tall."_

"That's the gamekeeper, Hagrid," Daphne hissed to the other two as they linked arms to keep from stumbling around too much in the dark. "He's been working here since before Mum and Dad attended."

"He doesn't look it," Hope remarked in clear surprise as they made their way down a steep and narrow path that forced the girls to part their arms. They didn't speak after that, the silence and nervousness weighing down on them more than anything else.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," came the tall hairy man –Hagrid, Hope had to remind herself– from close to the front, "jus' round this bend here."

And following that a few loud awe-filled exclamations that Hope could only understand once they'd rounded the corner as well, giving them full view of the castle.

There was an image of it in Hogwarts, A History, but it certainly didn't do the structure justice. It was a medieval castle of _perfection_ , that was the best way to describe it. Several stories tall with spires branching off from the main structure. Hope had seen similar castles –though far less impressive– in history textbooks but they were worn by age and elements, and this castle was in prime condition with tiny pinpricks of light through the castle's windows, barely seen from where they were.

The only thing that separated them from it was a lake that glittered like black glass.

Close to them could be heard a soft mutter of "Bloody hell," and that was something she could agree with entirely, seeing it with her eyes for the first time. The sight was so distracting that the first years had to remember to start walking again, Hope included, towards the boats lined up beside the shoreline of the lake.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, jerking them all out of the awed trance that had been induced at the sight of the castle; there was hardly anyone that wasn't awed, from what Hope could see.

Daphne, Hope, and Hermione got in the last boat with the tearful boy that Hermione had helped before, Neville, but that might have had something to do with them lingering so much in leaving the train.

"Everyone in? Right then- FORWARD!"

Hope gripped the edge of the boat tightly, wary of falling into its depths, because she could swear she saw something moving down there. She recoiled quickly when she saw a pair of yellow eyes shimmer in the darkness before disappearing with a flutter of what looked to be green seaweed but Hope would one day learn it was in fact hair.

Hope breathed out slowly, quickly forgetting about the eyes as she looked on to the castle with its lanterns flickering in welcome.

"Heads down!" Hagrid called out as the boats moved forward by an enchantment of some sort, taking them through a curtain of ivy that hid a tunnel from view, a tunnel that appeared to be burrowed right beneath the castle, the boats moving forward steadily until they came to a stop at an underground shoreline, and then the girls pulled themselves out of the boat to make their way up the passageway after Hagrid's swinging lantern.

The passageway curved several times before they found themselves on grass and climbing stone steps to stand in a similarly stone courtyard before a great door.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid asked. "You there, still got yer toad?" He didn't wait for an answer from Neville before knocking sharply on the door, which opened after his first knock to reveal a familiar woman.

Professor McGonagall wasn't someone easy to forget with her tendency to wear emerald robes and sharp eyes. Hope wondered how her father and his friends could have earned so many detentions when she was the one they had to answer to, but that was just her opinion.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said with an air of politeness.

"Thank you, Hagrid," the witch responded, "I will take them from here." And then she directed the silent group to follow after her into the entrance hall and up a series of winding staircases until they were deposited into a small antechamber off of the larger hall.

It was only when they'd all crowded inside that she spoke.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, somehow making those words stern. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," she continued. "Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. "

There was a hint of warning there, Hope was sure of it.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

There was a buzz of whispers as she left and Hope arched an eyebrow as Hermione began to recite all the spells they'd learned over the past year under her breath; the list was quite extensive.

"I'm pretty sure that you're not going to need any of that," Daphne tried to point out, but it didn't appear to help the Muggle-born all that much, so she gave it up.

Hope tugged on a curled strand of her fringe, frowning when she caught a pair of grey eyes flicking towards her.

Draco Malfoy was standing beside two boys who were both rather stout and heavy set with confusion splashed on their faces; Hope wondered if it was a permanent look. Draco was no doubt under the impression that Hope was still going by the name Elpis Slytherin, and it would be rather amusing to see the look on his face when he discovered she was actually Hope Potter.

He had apparently been looking for her on the train and had stopped by the compartment when she was in the lavatory, asking if he'd seen Hope Potter. Daphne hadn't approved of the clear disdain his face held when he'd spoken to Hermione and neither had the girl in question.

"She's not here," Hermione had told him shortly, which was both telling the truth and skirting the truth at the same time, Hope had been so proud.

The next second his gaze had shifted, looking over the crowd of new students, looking for someone who couldn't be found (or someone who was standing right in front of him).

Hope wrinkled her nose.

They weren't waiting long when Professor McGonagall reappeared once more, waving away several ghosts that had floated through walls to greet them, something Hope found faintly disconcerting, though not nearly as much as the two suits of armour bearing the Slytherin seal giving her a slight bow.

"The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin," Professor McGonagall said, "now form a line and follow me."

They left the antechamber to walk through the great magnificent oak doors and into the Great Hall, and Hope was awed by the hall beyond that. There were more candles than she could count dangling high up in the air without suspension, illuminating the four long tables and the Head Table at the front. Hope's eyes were drawn to the man at the centre whose long white beard was as clear as day.

That would be Albus Dumbledore, she knew, the man who had allowed (and _allowed_ wasn't the right word to use, perhaps _forced_ was a better term) her to remain at the Dursleys and the one who had tried to insist upon her returning there and leaving the safety of Potter Manor. Hope would rather drink poison.

She allowed her eyes to drift upwards, away from Dumbledore, trailing upwards to the ghosts and then past them once she saw the ceiling, which could hardly be described as a ceiling, resembling the night sky.

She was so distracted by the sky being inside that she almost ran into the person in front of her, and she was sure that they wouldn't have been very pleased with her. This directed her attention towards a short stool upon which sat perhaps the most raggedy hat in existence.

Hope blinked furiously, barely managing not to gape in incomprehension when she heard the rustic singing, coming from a _hat_ of all things! An incredulous expression appeared briefly on her face at the sight of an old and patched once-pointed hat, singing from a rip in the material.

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on!_

_Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

Then there was a loud applause and Hope's shoulders sagged. Whatever she'd been expecting for the Sorting Ceremony, it certainly wasn't that. Now it felt like a great deal of her anxiety and nervousness had left her.

"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall said, holding a long scroll in her hands that she certainly hadn't had a moment ago, "you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

That sounded easy enough.

Professor McGonagall began to read off names from a roll of parchment, starting with "Abbott, Hannah!", "Bones, Susan!", and "Boot, Terry!" who went into Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw respectively.

Professor McGonagall went through the names quickly, as the hat seemed to launch the House names out incredibly fast, but it was amusing to say the least at how Hermione jolted when her name was called, but she still stepped forward eagerly to perch on the edge of the stool, only for the hat to call out a moment later: "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione left the stool to cheers from the table to the far left which had broke up into cheering. The Gryffindors were a rather cheerful lot, if you asked Hope.

Daphne breathed in sharply as the next name was called.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

Then she swallowed thickly and straightened her spine, moving forward carefully to sit lightly on the edge of the stool. Her blue eyes disappearing from view briefly as the hat called out "SLYTHERIN!"

And then she was striding off towards the far right table with a regretful glance towards Hermione who seemed disappointed that so far two out of the three friends were separated by their houses.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The last name of the boy who had lost his toad before on the train caught Hope's memory. Longbottom…like _Alice Longbottom?_ Hope's godmother who was incapable of caring for her in the wake of her parents' death and her godfather's incarceration?

Neville must've been Alice's son. He was positively white in nervousness when he sat down on the stool and had the Sorting Hat dropped onto his head.

It took much longer than Hope would've thought for the hat to cry out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

But it wasn't long until "Malfoy, Draco!" came along, the heir striding forward with an arrogance that couldn't have been faked and was immediately followed by a yell of "SLYTHERIN!"

It seemed like ages before "Potter, Hope!" was called, and Hope took in a sharp breath, the butterflies in her stomach thickening into a swarm, before wading through the last of the of the to-be-sorted first years, trying to ignore the whispers that had sprung forth at the merest mention of her name.

" _Potter_ , did she say?"

" _The_ Hope Potter?"

She hoisted herself up onto the stool and permitted the hat to be dropped onto her head as well, the faces of those watching her disappearing as the brim flopped down over her eyes, but catching the last look of outrage on Draco Malfoy's face and allowing herself a small smirk.

She had expected a sudden cry of one of the Houses to issue from the hat, but it did not happen as immediately as she had anticipated.

"It's been such a long time," the Hat said, "since I've had a Slytherin to sort into their house."

Hope thought briefly of Tom Riddle and nearly flinched. "Er, thanks," she said, making a chuckle echo through her skull.

"Your grandfather would be proud," the Hat said before the seam ripped open to shout: "SLYTHERIN!"

The silence that followed that pronouncement was deafening.

Hope took the hat off, arching an eyebrow at the response; the entirety of Slytherin House appeared a bit struck that Hope Potter had been sorted into their house.

She handed the hat over to Professor McGonagall before making her way towards Daphne, turning just slightly to flash a smirk towards Dumbledore that had the twinkle in his eyes failing.

 _You lose this round,_ Hope thought viciously.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but think of a very different child who had been sorted into Slytherin so many years ago, a dark-haired boy not unlike Hope, bright and curious and dangerous, a boy who had made all the wrong choices, but could he convince _her_ to make the right ones? Even he didn't know the answer to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, isn't it so bloody ironic how Hope doesn't put much stock in prophecies, given she's a part of one? I'm going to love that bombshell.
> 
> A brief appearance of Thanatos, for you Thanatos lovers, and Thalia and Agathe Blackwood make an appearance, if you don't know them from Looking Beyond, don't worry, you know them just fine in Serpent Tongue. They'll be background characters for awhile (Hemera might be born a few years later in this fic because of reasons, but oh well), but you'll still see them from time to time.
> 
> And there'll be more Earth Magick to come.
> 
> And also some GeorgexHope interaction. I liked Hope and Fred's brief chat, but I need me some Geope chatting.


	10. Slytherin House Difficulties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad everyone liked the last chapter, I might go back and add to the Sorting Hat-Hope conversation, but we'll see.
> 
> I'm glad you lot enjoyed the Fred-Hope interaction, hopefully there'll be some George-Hope interaction in this chapter, which will be exciting ;)
> 
> In this fic, all those who are entering Hogwarts for the first time get a list of their classes for the first day before hand, mostly because they'll be running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and I didn't want Hope and Daphne to have to run back down to the dungeons to get their books.

Thanatos had a tendency to put off things for as long as he could possibly avoid them, but that tactic only worked for so long, and Thalia Blackwood was rather well-known for her stubbornness, if nothing else, a trait that had been, no doubt, passed down from him.

"You can't avoid me forever, Thanatos," she said when he appeared to her in the dead of night while she was sharpening her sword. The sword itself was antique, but no one would have been able to tell. It had been a gift to Thanatos' lover, Adeliade Peverell and it had been passed on to his son Antioch and then down the line until it rested with Thalia after the death of her sister, Aglaia.

"Perhaps I am simply a busy man, dearest," Thanatos remarked simply and Thalia lifted her eyes to arch an eyebrow at him.

"You're not even a man," she pointed out before resuming her sharpening of the sword, missing the smile that graced the god's lips as he listened to the razor-sharp response.

"Perhaps not," he said, "but I've learned it's the thought that counts."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "I thought we were going to have a chat about my distant relation, Hope Potter?"

Thanatos pursed his lips, looking so strangely human for a moment.

"Her situation is a bit… _difficult,"_ he admitted after a long minute, settling into the armchair close to the unlit fireplace.

"Simplify it then," Thalia said, unperturbed and there was a reason, Thanatos realized, that she was such an exceptional operative for the Greek Aurors. She had the uncanny ability to pull the truth from others lips.

"Her parents—"

"I know what happened to her parents," Thalia said shortly, her eyes like steel, "I'm pretty sure every Wizarding family is aware of that matter."

Thanatos inclined his head slightly. "After they were killed," he said finally, "she was taken to stay with her mother's sister and she was kept safe there and I was content for a time."

"But?" Thalia prompted.

"But perhaps I was content because I believed she was safe and with family…Lord Hades kept me busy, I didn't consider to slow down and look closely until she was almost ten…I saw her out walking with a bag full of books but something was off."

"How so?" Thalia asked, sheathing her sword in order to focus on what he was saying.

"She was too small and too pale…she was very far off from being healthy," Thanatos finally said, heaving a heavy sigh. "I couldn't consider letting her remain in that environment so I revealed myself to her."

"And how'd that go?" Thalia snorted, crossing one leg over the other.

"Better than I'd been anticipating," Thanatos admitted, "she is a clever child, perhaps every bit as stubborn and brazen as you are, dearest."

Thalia gave him a small smile. "You like her."

"I like _all_ of my descendants," Thanatos said, nonplussed and Thalia laughed at the frown on his lips.

"Can we meet her?" she asked once the god had a moment to wonder why he'd had children and thus descendants in the first place.

"Well, the last relative she was aware of happened to be the man who killed her parents," he said dryly, "perhaps it would be best to break it to her slowly."

Though, he could scarcely imagine Hope not liking Thalia Blackwood; she had a certain aura, after all.

* * *

Hope was helping herself to some steak and kidney pie when she finally decided to acknowledge the boy in front of her.

"Can I help you, Heir Malfoy?" she asked with an air of curiosity while Daphne hid her snort into her pumpkin juice beside her.

There was an obvious space between the girls and the other members of Slytherin House, owing, no doubt, to the fact, that many of their parents were Death Eaters, whether recanted of not. Of the incoming students, Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode appeared to be the ones who had stayed away the most. A girl named Tracey Davis didn't appear to be too particular, but Draco was glowering at Hope as he moved to sit across from her.

"You're a _liar,"_ he snapped _. "Heir Slytherin."_

He spat her name with such contempt that Hope had to blink and arch an eyebrow for good measure. "It's hard to lie about the truth, wouldn't you agree, Heir Greengrass?"

"Well, it might have something to do with how Heir Malfoy believes he is entitled to knowing that you had more than one heiress name, Heir Potter," Daphne replied easily, her lips twitching as her eyes glittered with restrained humour.

"My name is Hope Potter," Hope told him, unperturbed by his response, "my ancestral name is Elpis Slytherin, so I wasn't lying…and if you're quite finished, we'd like to eat in peace and quiet."

He stood in a manner similar to an outraged child, making his way back towards Crabbe and Goyle with a stormy look on his face.

"It's times like these where I miss Hermione," Daphne sighed, looking across the room to where Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table, picking at her food more than eating, appearing to Daphne and Hope rather like she was uncomfortable sitting and eating around people she didn't know. Mostly she appeared to be engaging in a conversation with a red-haired lad with horn-rimmed glasses who looked like he might be a prefect of sorts.

"Maybe she can sit with us tomorrow?" Hope suggested with a shrug, though she looked just as much put out as Daphne was. It would have been nice if they were all in the same house, but they'd be in the same classes for the most part, so that was the upside.

"I get the feeling that Slytherin House isn't going to be a fan of a Gryffindor Muggle-born sitting at their table," Daphne pointed out.

"Well, it's a good thing we know some spells to set them right," Hope said without even blinking.

"Ah, Potter, I _knew_ there was a reason I liked you."

They both laughed.

* * *

There were three attempts to trip Hope on the way down the stairs that moved, which was, by far, more fascinating than the attempts to trip.

Hogwarts was very large she had come to realize, obviously she'd seen how big it was from the outside, but the inside seemed so much larger than the outside and Hope wanted nothing more than to map every inch of it out (because there was no way she was going to be able to find her classes tomorrow, with how many classrooms they passed by).

Pansy Parkinson, pug-faced with a vicious smirk that never seemed to leave her face, tried at tripping her again, but Hope evaded it easily, keeping an arm wrapped around Daphne's, turning her best glower on the girl. "Is there a problem, Heir Parkinson?" she asked, her tone positively frosty.

Playing the part of heiress to two ancient family lines was more difficult than Hope remembered it being at that Winter Gala that she'd attended last year. Pure-blood society was very stiff and formal and often involved speaking in a similar manner. It was one of the things she hated the most about the vast array of subjects that Mindy had to teach her in order for her to be considered a true heiress.

"You're not wanted here," Pansy sneered which did nothing to flatter her face.

"Yes, that's been made rather _clear,"_ Hope said, looking remarkably unperturbed by the fact. If Pansy was hoping to throw her off balance, she wasn't succeeding. "Only I don't particularly _care_ what you think."

Hope had learned a long time ago that words were sometimes a better weapon than fits, besides, Hope didn't really know how to fight with her fists.

She turned away from the fuming girl as they descended deep into the dungeons. The dungeons were dark with flames flickering in the braziers, casting shadows over the new students as they followed after the prefects diligently so as not to be left behind in the darkness; Hope and Daphne ended up at the back, but neither appeared to care too much about that fact, they'd never been the type to be afraid of the dark.

They came to a stop before a blank stretch of wall to which the male Slytherin prefect said: "Hand of Glory."

And a moment later the wall slid open and they all tumbled inside, taking in the common room with avid interest.

There were round green lanterns swaying eerily from the ceiling, casting a green glow down on them, with a round table close to the opposite wall and a desk close to the intricate fireplace where two long dark leather couches were resting. There were large pillars with carved serpents and shelves full of books.

It didn't really have a homey feel, but Hope didn't mind, it was nice to look at and Hope eyed the heavy tomes on the shelves with interest. Given her interests, it wasn't all that surprising that she actually liked the common room.

"This is the Slytherin common room," the second prefect said, her tone making it clear that she would rather be anywhere than where she currently was, not really a good trait for a prefect to have. "This is where you might find the space to do your homework or hang out with your friends outside of class. The password to allow entrance into the common room changes every month. Memorize it or else you won't be allowed inside unless someone else comes along to give the password themselves."

Her companion directed their attention to the two spiral staircases beyond two doorframes. "Going up the staircases leads to the dormitories, down leads to the bathrooms. Don't worry, the showers aren't shared like what the Gryffindors have got."

For some reason that caused a break out of sniggering and Hope arched an eyebrow towards Daphne who gave a shrug in response.

"There are spells in place to keep the boys from going up the girls' staircase, in case you were wondering," he continued blandly. "All of your trunks have been brought up from the train and you will find them next to a bed, that bed is yours for the rest of the years and there will be no complaints or changing of beds."

"First years will bunk in the dormitory off of the first door on the first landing," the girl interjected sharply. "There are only two landings, the first with three dormitories and the second with four. You will move from one room to the next when you return for class each year…everyone except Potter and Greengrass will bunk in the first room of their respective dormitories."

"Why not them?" Millicent grunted in disdain and the girl's lip curled.

"Seeing as they're third year students, they will be rooming with their year-mates," she said. "We're done, you can leave now."

She made an ushering movement, directing them towards the staircases with careless hands and Hope looked to Daphne.

"I wasn't sure it was possible," she said as the group split between the two staircases, "but I think they hate me more now."

"They're just jealous," Daphne assured her. "You get a lot of attention as the Girl-Who-Lived and now you're two years ahead of where you should be; I'd be jealous too."

"Just as long as you're suffering with me," Hope muttered decisively and Daphne snorted as they climbed the stairs a short way before taking the door labelled with the number three Roman numeral.

"If that's the only consolation," Daphne said as she turned the knob to open the door.

The room already held the other third years and all three of them looked up when the door opened to scrutinize the two framed in the doorway.

It was clear that the three had grown rather accustomed to being the only female Slytherin third years and didn't quite like having to share their bedroom space with two eleven year olds who decided to skip two years in one go.

"Oh, yeah," Hope muttered, "this is going to be _fun."_

* * *

Hermione felt awkward standing in the third year dormitory of the Gryffindor Tower, swallowing thickly as she stepped inside with a cautious "Hello?"

Luckily for her, the girls within were rather kind with easy grins that turned towards her.

"Hi!" The first one, a dark-skinned girl with a head of thick dreadlocks, said, grinning brightly at her. "You're Hermione, right? The girl that skipped two years, right?"

"Er, one of them," Hermione admitted, making the brown-haired girl closest to her start in surprise.

"There's _more_ than one of you that did that?" she asked, clearly startled by the knowledge.

"There're three of us," Hermione said, manoeuvring through the beds to reach that one that held her trunk in front of it. "Hope Potter and Daphne Greengrass are the other two."

The second girl arched an eyebrow, drawing her hair up into a high ponytail. "That's got to be weird."

"What d'you mean?" Hermione asked befuddled.

"Well, they're in Slytherin, right?" she prompted. "Slytherin's not all that accepting, especially of change, and then she's the Girl-Who-Lived…surprising she ended up there, though."

"Why's that?" Hermione was bristling slightly.

"Her parents were both Gryffindors," the first girl informed her, "everyone thought she'd end up here too."

Hermione remembered Hope frowning one day, mentioning how the professor that had come to the manor had mentioned how much she looked like her parents and how that unsettled her.

"She doesn't like it when people do that," Hermione told them, "assuming things about her based on who her parents are."

"She's your friend?" The second one asked.

"First friend," Hermione said, "and so is Daphne."

She wasn't sure what they were expecting but they didn't question it.

"I'm Angelina Johnson," the girl with dreadlocks said before gesturing towards the girl at her side, "and this is Alicia Spinnet, we're two of the Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

Not a single word besides their names made any sense to Hermione. "Erm," she said, glancing from one to the other and then to the other girls getting ready for bed, ignoring them for the most part, "I…I don't really know what that means."

Both girls paused to stare at her and Hermione could feel the blood rushing to her face.

"You don't know what Quidditch is?" Alicia repeated dubiously.

"Good thing she didn't mention that in front of the twins," Angelina snorted, "I mean, that would be _hilarious_ to watch."

"Fred and George would probably sit you down and explain it all to you in great detail," Alicia explained at the continued expression of confusion. "They're the beaters, identical twins."

" _Oh!"_ Hermione's eyebrows rose. "I think Hope ran into one of them in Diagon Alley."

"That's likely," Angelina snorted. "They're both terrible pranksters too, so that doesn't really help."

Then she gave Hermione a serious look. "Never trust anything they offer you to eat."

Hermione's eyes turned into wide saucers.

"You're going to scare her off," Alicia laughed, "don't worry, Hermione, I mean, the chances are you might end up with a few days of blue hair."

"Hope did that once," Hermione admitted, "it didn't look too bad."

Both girls snorted.

* * *

Hope slept fitfully and awoke early the next morning by the sound of yelps of pain and she opened the drapes around her bed to see one of the girls, a dark-haired girl named Isla Vaisley clutching at her hands as boils sprung up on them, awakening the other girls.

Isla was howling and a moment later the female prefect, Gemma Farley, had appeared looking harried with a scowl on her face.

"What's going on?" she demanded as Daphne threw her drapes back to look to Hope who was glaring at Isla for good measure.

"Potter _attacked_ me!" Isla seethed, clutching her pustule-ridden hands to her chest, just enough to keep the boils away from the free air but still not touching her in an effort to keep from aggravating them too much.

Gemma looked to Hope for an explanation and Hope leapt to her feet angrily, her long loose plait falling over her shoulder as her eyes flashed red for a brief moment. "I was asleep until you screamed like a dying Mandrake and woke us all up!"

" _You_ _cursed me!"_

"I cursed the drapes, you _Flobberworm-for-a-brain!"_ Hope snapped back, watching how Isla's cheeks coloured ruddy at her insults.

" _Enough!"_ Gemma stepped between them before the situation could get anymore out of hand. "I'm taking you both to Professor Snape and you can sort out this little spat with him."

Daphne shot a look towards Hope, but she was too incensed to much more than find her slippers and dressing gown to go over her pyjamas, marching after Gemma and Isla down the stairs and then out of the common room, taking them down the lengthy hallway of the dungeons before rapping sharply on a dark door with her knuckles, calling: "Professor Snape, its Prefect Farley, I have a situation that I think needs your attention."

It was a few moments later before the door was wrenched open and Hope found herself staring at the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Severus Snape.

He was tall with eyes that Hope would have considered impossibly black if she hadn't seen how dark Thanatos' eyes were and with a curtain of thick greasy hair around his face. His dressing gown and night wear were so black that he appeared to be drowning in the shadows.

"Prefect Farley," he said in an oily voice, "what is it?"

"There was a fight in the third year dormitory," Gemma informed him, gesturing between the two who were still glaring sourly at one another. "They don't quite agree on how Vaisley ended up with boils. Vaisley says Potter attacked her and Potter says she charmed the drapes around her bed."

Professor Snape looked over the pair of them with interest and Hope couldn't but feel as though she was being analyzed.

"Vaisley, first," he said, stepping aside to allow the slightly older girl into the room to ask her what happened and then the door closed a moment later.

"Don't worry," Gemma said to Hope who was eyeing the door with speculation, "Professor Snape generally knows who's lying and who's telling the truth around here."

"That's so comforting," Hope said dryly and Gemma made an amused noise in the back of her throat.

"The curse on the drapes was actually a good idea," she admitted after a moment of silence, "given who you are."

Hope's lips thinned into a line.

"I hope you've got some thick skin, Potter, because you're going to need it," Gemma said before turning on her heel and making her way back to the common room, leaving Hope in silence and in darkness.

The sound of the voices within the office were dulled by the door, and Hope shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her attention catching on something down the hall.

She found herself staring at the figure cloaked for the most part in darkness, but she could have sworn she saw a pair of pale green eyes before they disappeared, leaving Hope a bit confused, her brow furrowing.

A moment or two later the door opened once more and Isla stepped out looking pleased and Hope imagined that the third year had heaped complaint on top of complaint about Hope to their Head of House. The smirk that was thrown her way told her just that.

"Potter," Professor Snape said shortly and Hope entered the room with her back straight and her eyes ahead, moving into the room and looking around with interest.

He was the potions-master, Hope remembered Remus telling her, and it showed in everything within the room. There were shelves full of potion ingredients around the large desk, before which was set a worn chair into which Hope was certain she would be sitting.

And, sure enough, a moment later he said: "Take a seat, Potter."

So Hope complied with his command, her eyes following his as he moved around the desk, thinking about what Remus had said about him and her mother.

_"Lily was friends with a boy in Slytherin named Severus Snape and he and James never saw eye to eye. James was a Pure-blood who hated the idea of blood purity and Severus was the type to hang out with Blood Purists, shall we say? It was the thing that eventually broke Lily and Severus' friendship."_

"Vaisley is under the impression that you are going out of your way to attack her," Professor Snape began, his silky words shattering the silence. "Is that true?"

Hope's teeth gritted behind her lips before she pried them apart in order to speak. "No," she said vehemently, only managing to just keep her cool. "No one in Slytherin House except Daphne likes me so I took precautions."

"Precautions?" Professor Snape repeated dubiously, almost carelessly and Hope scowled fiercely.

"That's right," she said coldly. "I put a boil curse on the drapes before I went to bed. My friend did the same. We at least know the difference between being clever and cowardly."

Professor Snape hadn't honestly known what to expect when he'd seen Lily's daughter among those waiting to be sorted. It was surprising enough that she'd been one of the three that had skipped two years in one go, but then he'd seen her and there was so much of Lily in her, even overshadowed by Potter. And then, to his complete surprise, instead of ending up in her parents' house, she had been placed in _Slytherin._

A glimpse into her mind told him much the same as looking into Isla Vaisley's; Hope had indeed cast the spell on her drapes and Isla had attempted to forcefully part them with a curse ready at the end of her wand.

"Given that class hasn't yet begun, I will be lenient this one time," he said finally, "I should hope this does not become a normal occurrence, Potter."

Hope narrowed her eyes, frowning, but she couldn't tell if that meant he believed her or if he believed Isla, but either way she was surprised that she hadn't automatically gotten blamed, that did tend to happen more often than not.

"Yes, sir," she said stiffly before standing and making her way out of the office, shutting the door swiftly behind her only to find herself completely and utterly lost.

Hope expelled an exasperated sigh. She didn't think they'd taken all that many turns on the way to Professor Snape's office but now she wasn't so sure.

She took a few cautious steps back in the direction she had come before she was interrupted.

"May I be of assistance, Milady?"

Hope gave a loud yelp in surprise, recoiling at the apparently sudden appearance of a talking suit of armour. She'd seen several suits of armour since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, but as far as she had been aware, they didn't speak.

It was at that moment that she finally realized that the suit of armour had asked her something.

"I–er–well–it's—" Her words tripped from her mouth and found herself briefly unable to formulate a coherent sentence, but then she got her tongue working again.

"I'm a bit lost," she admitted, "you wouldn't happen to know where the Slytherin common room is, would you?"

The suit of armour gave a small chuckle. "Of course, Milady," he said and Hope found herself flushing at the use of such a reverent title. He extended an arm to Hope and Hope took the crook of his elbow, allowing him to lead her forward.

"I didn't think that the suits of armour could talk here," she spoke after a short stint of silence.

"Oh, you can't," the suit of armour agreed, "but I'm a bit different."

"How so?" Hope asked with honest curiosity.

"I am merely an imprint of the soul of the man who once wore me," he informed her.

"A soul imprint?" Hope's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "What was your name back when you were alive?"

"I was Sir Michael Richmond," he said, "Salazar Slytherin's most trusted ally."

Hope paused, forcing the suit of armour to pause as well in order to keep from dragging Hope forward.

"Wait," she said, staring at the helmet like she'd never seen anything quite like it in all her life, " _you're_ Michael Richmond? The Muggle werewolf that served under Salazar Slytherin for decades?"

"Familiar with your own history, Heir Slytherin?" he sounded vaguely amused. "And yes, that was I. It was a difficult life but Lord Salazar gave me kindness when others turned me away."

"I have a caretaker like you," Hope told him, giving the suit of armour a smile. "He's been a werewolf since he was very young and he's been turned away from so many jobs because of what he is."

"The views of the British Wizardry are very…how shall I put it? Archaic, yes?" The visor of his helmet creaked. "Old-fashioned?"

"I've gotten that feeling, yes," Hope agreed, her words with just a touch of amusement. "And they consider Earth Magick and Blood Magick to be dark."

" _Ah,"_ the suit of armour said, coming off a bit pleased, "you take after Lady Morea, I see. She had a fondness for that magic that was unrivalled."

"I'm learning it from her book," Hope agreed with a smile. "It's quite fascinating."

"And I'm sure it will remain so," he said as they came to a stop in front of the blank stretch of wall that led into the Slytherin common room. "And this is where I leave you."

"Thank you," Hope said, turning towards the wall before turning back to look at the suit of armour a bit sheepishly. "I don't suppose I could ask you to guide my friends and I to our classes tomorrow? We don't really know where we're going…"

A rusty chuckle almost dislodged the helmet and Hope was certain it was far too early in the morning for her to see that. "It would be an honour, Milady," he assured her before clanking away.

Hope watched him disappear into darkness before turning to face the wall once more and said clearly "Hand of Glory" to allow the wall to melt away.

The common room was empty, but that was to be expected. A glance towards the large clock mounted on the wall told her it was only three-quarters past five o'clock in the morning, so it wasn't really all that early. And there really wasn't much of a point to her trying to get some sleep if she was going to wake back up in an hour or so.

Hope trudged up the steps to quietly open the door to the third-year room, peeking her head inside to see if anyone was awake. Even Isla, who had been so alert when shouting insults was fast asleep, the boils Hope had given her gone and a potion bottle empty by her side.

Hope had a sneer at her even though she couldn't see her before making her way slowly to the trunk by her bed, clicking it open to grab her uniform and shut it swiftly and silently, tip-toeing past Daphne's slumbering form to make her way out of the room and down the spiralling staircase, past the doorway that led out into the common room, taking herself deeper to the door that opened into the bathroom.

Then Hope had to pause and take it all in. The floor was marble tile with a few slender pillars made of a similar material as they climbed from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. The sinks curled around mirrors in a hexagon shape with larger mirrors set up facing a few chairs, clearly for any Slytherin ladies that had the want or need to apply make-up before class, with individual showers hidden behind emerald curtains.

Luckily for Hope they were all vacant, the whole room, in fact, was vacant, so Hope had the pick of the lot.

Hope picked the first stall, setting down her things on the stool before sweeping the curtain over, hiding her from view as she unfurled the plait that had secured her hair in the night and disrobed, stepping into the steady stream of warm water.

Hogwarts wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting but she had been anticipating such an overtly negative response from her peers, but she supposed that was to be expected, after all, many of them had Death Eater bloodlines.

She gritted her teeth together, thinking of the Death Eater Trials she had once read over, many of those Death Eaters weren't even serving any time in prison, and here their children were acting like Hope was there personal enemy.

" _I hope you've got some thick skin, Potter, because you're going to need it."_

Hope wished she didn't have to. She wished that the world didn't have to see her as something she wasn't only to be surprised when she didn't conform to their ideal. She wished she could publicly convey her interest in Earth Magick without being considered dark because of its mislabel. She wished people didn't look at her the way they did, like she was something great for nothing more than a coincidence. She wished things were so much simpler.

But Hope had never been very lucky in life, so it wasn't all that surprising that those wishes wouldn't come true.

* * *

Hope was sitting on the couch close to the fire with a slender book open on her lap when Daphne descended the stairs to join her, fixing her silver and green tie as she gave her friend a grin.

"Hey! Been up long?" she asked and Hope shut the book she was reading, allowing Daphne a glimpse of the Slytherin family seal stamped into the leather, making it the journal of her grandfather, Salazar Slytherin.

"I didn't really go asleep after Isla woke me up," Hope admitted, shoving the book into her bag. It was their first day of classes, but they only had four to go to, Hermione, being the stubborn girl that she was, signing up for all of the elective classes that were available, had six. "I wasn't really tired and there didn't seem to be much of a point, you know? I figured I might as well snag a shower while they were all free."

And if Hope was tired, she didn't look it with her eyes green and impossibly bright and her dark hair swept up into an intricate bun that was partially made up of plaits big and small.

"Did you want to head up?" Daphne asked her, glancing towards the clock. "I know it's a little early, but there should still be some food."

"Yes!" Hope pulled herself upright with a moan. "I'm starving! I should have eaten more for dinner last night but I wasn't really feeling it."

Daphne could imagine. She hadn't been all that hungry yesterday either. The overwhelming dislike her friend had faced from their new house was rather palpable. Daphne was lucky, she was from a neutral family, but Hope was from a Light family, and that didn't go over well. Not all of the members of the house were from neutral to dark families, but a good portion were, enough to make the others follow their lead.

They left the common room to whispers that echoed, sounding like a snake's hisses.

"How'd it go with Professor Snape?" Daphne asked her once they'd rounded the bend that led up to the long staircase they had to take to reach the Great Hall. "Are you in trouble?"

"Not today," Hope said with a frown on her lips. "I mean, I could have argued self-defence but he just said to try and make sure it doesn't happen again."

Daphne couldn't contain a snort. "Well," she said, "that's _likely."_

Hope gave a helpless shrug.

"I heard he's got a lot of favouritism towards his house, so maybe he just didn't want to take any points from his students," Daphne remarked sagely with narrowed eyes.

"He knew my mother," Hope confided, "their friendship ended badly, according to Remus."

Daphne hummed thoughtfully.

"Oh," Hope said suddenly as they paused on the staircase as it began to move underneath them, "I forgot to mention I got lost on the way back and this suit of armour helped me."

Daphne arched an eyebrow as if to say 'And this is important why?'

"The suit of armour is an imprint of Sir Michael Richmond," Hope informed her smugly, "who just so happens to have served Salazar Slytherin while he was alive."

"Could he _talk?"_ Daphne asked with eyes wide.

Hope sniggered, bobbing her head. "He was very chatty and he said he'd be happy to escort us to our classes today since we don't know where we're going."

"Well," Daphne said dryly, "wasn't that _nice_ of him."

They came to a stop outside the Great Hall's massive doors, though they were thrown open to allow others inside, looking around cautiously, but there was hardly anyone inside. The jittery professor in a turban was muttering to himself as he pushed food around on his plate, there were two Ravenclaws pouring over books rather than eating the food in front of them, a Hufflepuff was devouring some toast, and a Gryffindor who had apparently gotten up early for nothing, was fast asleep with their face pressed against the table top.

"Tough crowd," Hope said before they made their way to the Slytherin table. "How do you think Hermione's doing?"

"Probably better than us," Daphne yawned, "Gryffindor house doesn't have a reason to hate her guts."

"Thanks, Daphne, you're making me feel _so_ much better," Hope uttered in a deadpan tone that made her friend laugh, and given the silence within the room, the noise echoed, making both Ravenclaws look up from their books with annoyed scowls.

"It's what I'm here for," Daphne said with a blinding smile that was absolutely no comfort at all.

They sat down and helped themselves to some eggs and sausage and were halfway through eating when Hermione showed up, her whole face brightening as she moved to join them, her curls wild around her face.

"Oh, good," she said, "you're up."

And then she held out a hair tie to Daphne who put on her best resigned look before patting the seat beside her for Hermione to sit down on, and Hermione plopped herself down, allowing Daphne to gather up her hair into a French braid.

"You know, her birthday is coming up," Hope reminded Daphne like Hermione wasn't even there. "Maybe we should get her a hairbrush that combs into a French braid, because I think she's getting a bit of an obsession with them."

Hermione gave Hope a look that was a cross between amused and exasperated, making Hope smirk for good measure.

"That's a good idea," Daphne said, taking the lead from Hope with a snort, "I mean, I've lost count how many times she's asked me to plait her hair…"

"You're both _so_ funny," Hermione drawled. "See if I get you anything for Christmas this year."

Hope rolled her eyes briefly, swallowing a bit of egg. "So, what's it like in Gryffindor?"

"It's all right," Hermione conceded as Daphne tied the braid off, allowing her to swing her body around to face the table completely, grasping a plate and piling it with food. "Everyone's really friendly, especially the third years, they were really welcoming."

"Lucky you," Hope said, taking a thick gulp of pumpkin juice. "We got the short end of the stick."

"Hope gave a girl some boils this morning," Daphne told Hermione and the brunette choked on her bite of sausage, her eyes going wide.

"You did _what?"_ she demanded, struggling to keep her voice quiet.

"Okay, I didn't curse _her_ with boils," Hope muttered with annoyance, "I spelled the damn _drapery_ and she _obviously_ wanted to curse me so that's a win in my book."

Hermione looked to Daphne for some sort of explanation that might make some kind of sense.

"Slytherin house doesn't like Hope because she's the Girl-Who-Lived and some of the family members of current students were put away after she 'defeated' the Dark Lord," Daphne explained.

Hermione grimaced.

"It's like a minefield," Hope groaned, "and it's also ironic, you know, given my bloodline. I'm pretty sure that if anyone's got a right to be in Slytherin house, it's _me."_

"Are you going to tell them that?" Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow as Hermione burst into giggles at the sour expression that spread across Hope's face.

"Why bother fuelling the fire?" she muttered. "They're already under the impression that I've been lying about my family name, at least, the ones that went to that Winter Gala do…I've decided I don't care."

"Personally, I'm putting five galleons on her cursing someone in half an hour," Daphne informed Hermione blandly. "Want to take it me up on that?"

"No thanks, I don't have a lot of pocket change."

"Touché," Daphne conceded and Hope rolled her eyes.

"Okay, when are we getting our schedules?" Hope demanded, "all I've got is the list of classes for today and that's not very helpful."

"I think our Head of House is supposed to give them to us," Hermione mused thoughtfully before chewing on some bacon.

"Is your Head of House even going to be able to find you over here?" Daphne sniggered as a few more people filtered in through the doors.

"Oh, yeah," Hermione realized, "that might be a problem."

Hope's lips curled in amusement as she took another sip of her pumpkin juice. "Yeah, and you've got, what, six classes today?"

Hermione shot her a glare.

"This is the girl that passed her Muggle classes while taking Wizarding ones for a whole year," Daphne pointed out, leaning over the table towards Hope in a conspirator-like manner, her eyes glittering.

"I still average better than both of you," Hermione sniffed, her nose in the air, but they both knew her far too well to take her seriously.

"Yeah, but who's counting?" Hope asked and they all shared a laugh.

* * *

"So, something interesting happened today," Angelina said the moment Fred and George took their seats opposite her and Lee Jordan, and beside Alicia, stirring honey into her porridge with a smile that usually boded ill.

"More interesting than waking up early?" Fred asked, rubbing at his eyes to stay awake while George dragged the entire plate of sausages toward himself before Alicia took it from him with vague amusement.

"Okay, so, you know how we've got three students this year that skipped two years, right?" Angelina said, ignoring the question.

"Completely mental, if you ask me," George groaned into his pumpkin juice.

"Well, one of them is with us, Hermione Granger, but you want to know who the other two are?"

Fred arched an eyebrow. Angelina wasn't usually one for gossip so it must have been quite something. "No idea."

"Daphne Greengrass and Hope Potter," she said with a grin, "and they're both in Slytherin and are best friends with Hermione."

"You're _kidding_ ," the twins said as one, turning around to look to the mostly vacant Slytherin table where, sure enough, a brown-haired girl in bearing Gryffindor's red and gold was sitting beside a blonde-haired girl and across from a dark-haired one.

It would be hard not to recognize Hope Potter, especially after George had nearly knocked into her in Diagon Alley and Fred had had a short conversation with her on the train. She wasn't quite what either boy had been expecting, all refined and steely eyed.

"That's not going to go over well," George found himself saying as other Slytherins started making their way into the hall and one boy actually froze when he saw the Gryffindor girl sitting with her friends.

It was true that friends tended to move to sit with one another, whether or not they were from different houses, and it was something seen across Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor tables, but Slytherin had always liked to think of themselves as elite and exclusive –the fact that a good portion of the students were from old families only helped further that belief– so they hardly associated with the other houses.

It was startling enough that a Gryffindor was willingly sitting at the Slytherin table, but it was still doubtful that it wasn't going to get a negative response.

Sure enough, a second later Hope's head had whipped towards the Slytherin boy that had finally moved past them, allowing them to see it was Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Do you want something?" Hope asked him coldly, her voice echoing as he sat down away from the grouping of three eleven year old witches with a look of clear disgust on his face. "Maybe a tongue correction, or perhaps one on your entire head?"

"I'd be _happy_ to assist," Daphne said, equally as frosty, withdrawing her wand and fingering it with barely restrained glee. "Better yet, cut out his tongue, he doesn't look like he needs it."

Hermione's eyes were side and George arched an eyebrow. "They're also, apparently, violent."

"I would be too," Alicia said coolly, "if someone called me what he just called Hermione."

It was too far to hear, but it was easy to ascertain a response to the word 'Mudblood'.

Then Hermione stood. "I'm going to go wait at the Gryffindor table," she told her friends, "meet you outside once I've got my schedule."

Both Slytherins gave affirmative nods and Hermione moved away from them with a frown on her lips.

"Hey, you okay?" Alicia asked her as she sat down, not too close but not too far from them.

"I'm fine," she said with a small smile, "Hope's probably got it worse than me, anyways."

George looked over to the Girl-Who-Lived who now had a perpetual glare as more and more of her house-mates entered the hall.

"Blimey," Fred said, "she doesn't look pleased."

"She wouldn't be," Hermione muttered, fiddling with the end of her plait, but she didn't bother to elaborate on the subject, but it was news that would spread with wildfire and by the time lunch came around everyone would know how Hope Potter had cursed another student before classes had even started.

* * *

"Ancient Runes doesn't start until nine-thirty, so we've still got some time," Hope muttered as the three sat on a stone bench outside of the Great Hall. There was an apple stuck in her robe pocket, but Hope wasn't very hungry after Flint –the absolute _arse_ – had uttered that slur towards Hermione.

"Looks like you're going to be doing a lot of running around," Daphne noticed, looking over Hermione's shoulder to the schedule in her hands, reading off the classes. "Care of Magical Creatures at eight-thirty, _both_ Divination and Study of Ancient Runes at nine-thirty, Transfiguration at eleven-forty-five, then after lunch Potions at one-forty-five and Defense Against the Dark Arts at three…seriously, Hermione, what on _earth_ made you want to do all the electives, you aren't going to be able to sleep at all this year at this rate."

" _Ha-ha_ , very funny," Hermione said, snatching her schedule close to her chest so that Daphne couldn't read off any more details from her schedule for the next few days. "I like to learn, is that a crime?"

"Running yourself into the ground might be," Hope mentioned, checking her watch. "Don't you only have like fifteen minutes before class starts?"

Hermione sighed. "And now I have to find someone to tell me where Care of Magical Creatures is located…"

"It's lucky I'm here, then," Hope said, gesturing towards herself with a flourish.

Hermione crossed her arms, making the bag over her shoulder swing precariously. "You don't know where the class is being held," she remarked dubiously, half sounding like she was telling herself that rather than stating a fact.

"I don't," Hope agreed with a grin. "But I made a friend that knows where everything is."

"He's a suit of armour," Daphne offered to the confused look on Hermione's face.

"Okay…" she said slowly, clearly still confused but trying to wrap her head around that idea.

"His name is Sir Michael Richmond," Hope said, knocking her shoulder against Daphne's for good measure, "and he used to serve my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, so he has a loyalty to members of the Slytherin family. And he escorted me back to the common room after I left Professor Snape's office when I got a little lost."

"Just a little?" Hermione was grinning now.

"Oh, shut up," Hope said, kicking her feet out and missing Hermione's ankles when she moved them out of the line of fire. "The point is, he can show us where all of our classes so we don't have to ask any other students."

Which basically meant Hope was just trying to avoid communicating with anyone else in her house, and Daphne couldn't really fault her there.

"Maybe we should make a map," Daphne considered a moment later.

"I could use a map," Hope and Hermione said as one before laughing.

* * *

Hermione was out of breath when she found Hope and Daphne outside of the Ancient Runes classroom, shoving her Time-turner inside her robes and out of view.

"I'm not late, am I?" she asked them as she came to a stop in front of them, making her heavy bag swing forward so that it almost smacked Daphne in the chest, forcing the blonde-haired witch to step back to avoid the attack, and then Hermione was overcome with giggles. "What happened to _your hair?"_ she gasped.

"You mean you didn't notice any Slytherins with this amazing hairstyle?" Hope said dryly, gesturing towards her braided bun which was emerald green spun with silver.

Daphne was similarly annoyed, tugging on a stray silver curl. "I don't know if you're aware of this, Hermione, but green is more of _Hope's_ colour, and that's why she's managed to pull it off so well."

"But you can change your hair colour at will," Hermione mentioned to Hope once she'd recovered a bit. "You could change yours back."

Hope crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "And leave Daphne to suffer on her own? But wait 'til I find out who's behind this."

"It's probably the Weasley twins," Hermione said, thinking back to what Angelina had said the previous night. "Angelina said they're a bit of pranksters."

"Is that so?" Hope's eyes narrowed in speculation.

Daphne coughed. "You're not late, no, I think we're the first ones here—"

"I mean, what would be a good way to top a minor –emphasis on _minor_ – colour-change spell? A voice change one?"

Daphne and Hermione looked over to Hope, amusement clear on their faces as Hope theorized out loud, but then they decided it would probably be best to enter the room and thus distract her from her prospective counter-attack.

The classroom was a bit awing, that much the three girls could agree on. There was Egyptian hieroglyphics, Scandinavian Norse, and Ancient Greek as well as a number of other symbols that Hope couldn't even come close to understanding strewn throughout the room. There were old books in the book shelves, half in languages that Hope couldn't even begin to understand, and there was an image of a glittering cartouche behind the professor's vacant desk.

"This…" Hope said in amazement, "is _so_ cool!"

"I guess it's worth it that you managed to skip two years in one go, right?" Daphne asked, elbowing her in the side, but Hope was far too distracted by all the runes to even respond to the jab.

Hermione was slightly exasperated as she steered Hope forward to one of the desks close to the front, taking the seat next to her, leaving Daphne to take the one on her other side.

There weren't that many students that had signed up to be in Study of Ancient Runes, which explained why they had lumped all four houses together, because –according to some complaints Hope had heard in the hallway– usually only two houses had class together.

Marigold Burke took a seat close to the back, her curls green and silver which didn't look all that endearing on her, if Hope had to be perfectly honest, shooting a look of disdain towards Hope, but it was ignored.

It took a few more minutes for the last of the students to filter inside with the hum of conversation surrounding them briefly before they were interrupted by the click of heels against stone.

"Find your seats!" a female voice called out into the room and there was a scramble for a good seat.

The woman who taught Ancient Runes was not a stern-faced woman, like Professor McGonagall was. Her hair was a light brown set in wild curls around her face and her cheeks dimpled as she smiled. To her credit, she didn't mention the three heads of green and silver hair.

"Hello and welcome to the Study of Ancient Runes!" she called out with a bright grin. "My name is Bathsheda Babbling, we will begin with roll call!"

As soon as she had checked everyone's name down, she smiled warmly once more, sitting on her desk in a fashion that made it clear she was a very relaxed teacher. "This is a class that delves into the mysteries of the past and unearths the languages that have been long forgotten," she told them, "the main focus of your first years in this subject will be translation and eventually we will touch on warding and barrier-erection that you might find in your future occupations. We will begin this semester with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Today you will be given a specific hieroglyph that I want you to research and find its meaning, an ancient text in which it is used, and what it represented to the Ancient Egyptians.

"Now if everyone would open to chapter one in their books we will begin with the first recorded history of the hieroglyphs…"

So the girls pulled out their parchment and quill to begin taking notes, only putting their quills down when class ended an hour later.

"All right, it's your first day, but that doesn't mean that you can start slacking," Professor Babbling warned. "I want a short essay on a sub-category of Ancient Runes –entirely of your choosing– and I want you to tell me how it can be considered an Ancient Rune study, how it is applied, give me examples of the study's use of runes, and a brief history and explanation of that study!"

Most of the students were already out the door, but Hope hung back to ask the professor a question.

"Professor Babbling?" Hope said cautiously and the older witch looked up with a smile.

"Hope Potter, right?" she questioned. "One of our advanced students?"

"Yes," Hope said, as the professor's eyes did the customary flick up to the scar on her forehead (honestly Hope had lost how many stares she'd gotten that morning _alone_ ). "I had a question about the types of studies we could use in the essay."

"Well, whichever one you like," Professor Babbling said, befuddlement clear.

"It's just that I was thinking about doing it on the Ancient Arts," Hope admitted and the professor couldn't even hide her surprise; after all, the Ancient Arts were largely considered Dark.

"The Ancient Arts are far too broad," she said instead, surprising Hope. "Choose one of their magic types. What ones do you know?"

"Oh, I know about Earth Magick and Blood Magick," Hope said, ticking them off on her fingers.

"Go with Blood Magick," Professor Babbling said with a smile, "you'll find it applies easier to the types of runes we're doing. Earth Magick is more advanced."

"It is?" Hope's eyebrows rose. "And you don't mind a student doing a paper on something that's considered a Dark Art?"

Her face warped into a dry expression. "That view depends on the person, I've come to find…I look forward to reading your paper on Friday, Hope."

And then Hope smiled brightly, shoving her notes and her books into her bag before making her way out to join her friends.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked.

"I'm doing my paper on Blood Magick," Hope informed them brightly as they moved around the corner, wrapping her arm around the crook of Sir Michael Richmond's elbow.

"Michael," she said, with a grin still present on her lips, "how do you feel about escorting some ladies to the Transfiguration classroom?"

The answer was a rusty chuckle. "It would be my pleasure, Milady," the suit of armor said.

"I guess that goes to show you that chivalry _is_ dead," Hermione muttered and Daphne had to stuff her whole fist in her mouth to keep from bursting out into laughter as Hope twisted to look at them.

"Why do you two have to make my life difficult?" she complained.

"Oh, please," Daphne wheezed, "you wouldn't want it any other way."

Hope didn't bother to confirm or deny.

* * *

Fred and George were early getting to Transfiguration, which was a first for them, and they spent it pouring over a worn piece of parchment that contained the formula to one of their newer inventions, but it needed a few more refinements before they would even consider using it on anyone but themselves to test its efficiency.

"A colour change spell, _really?_ That's the _best_ you could come up with?"

Both boys lifted their heads to look to the speaker.

She was short with a head of green and silver hair that all those wearing Slytherin ties were subjected to. Professor McGonagall had pulled them into her office when the prank had spread through the whole house with a bland expression on her face, but since she couldn't really prove how they'd managed to get every single Slytherin, they'd gotten away with it.

" _Excuse me?"_ Fred said, his eyebrows raising high on his forehead, but George leaned forward with a grin.

"We start off small, don't worry, it'll get worse," he informed her and Hope's eyes shifted towards him.

"I look forward to it," she said shortly, leaning against the wood of the table before making her way over to her seat with her two friends, the green and silver of her hair not quite yet beginning to fade.

"Do you think that means she's going to retaliate?" Fred asked George a moment later, befuddlement clear.

"Dunno," George said with a shrug, "but, I mean, what's the worst thing she could come up with?"

It was true that Fred and George were notorious pranksters, in fact, you would be hard pressed to find someone in Hogwarts that didn't know that. But still, they'd never really had anyone try at retaliating against their pranks, especially since the pranks themselves weren't really all that terrible, just for a good laugh, but the Slytherins were the ones that had used 'Mudblood' when talking about Hermione when the twins happened to be close, and even though they didn't know Hermione Granger hardly at all, they did know that no one deserved to be called that, so every Slytherin had gotten a head of green and silver.

They had no idea they were about to meet their match when the other students made their way inside and Professor McGonagall began her lecture.

* * *

_Dear Remus–_

_Hogwarts is difficult. I'm sure it's no surprise that I was sorted into Slytherin, and at least I've got Daphne with me there because practically the whole house hates me and I actually ended up cursing someone at five in the morning, well, technically I cursed the drapes, but she was going to curse me so fair is fair. I don't think Slytherin house likes it when people from other houses sit at their table, because they were downright terrible when Hermione came and sat with us (and she's in Gryffindor, by the way). I did end up with a head of green and silver hair for a few hours, like the rest of the Slytherins. Apparently there are these two pranksters in Gryffindor house, Fred and George Weasley, and it was there prank, but…a colour change spell is so mild, Remus, and I need to one-up them so tomorrow the tables will turn!_

_In other news, I've made friends with a talking suit of armour named Sir Michael Richmond who used to work for Salazar Slytherin. He has a very odd sense of humour, but he did manage to tell us where all of our classrooms were located, but Daphne thinks we should make ourselves a map and I'm pretty sure that's the best idea I've heard all day._

– _Missing you_

_Hope_

* * *

There was something far too knowing in the smirk on Hope's face the next day when Fred and George came down for breakfast and it set them both on edge (which was remarkably impressive given how Hope was a small and short eleven year old third year who looked like a sharp gust of wind would blow her away), but she didn't move apart from shooting a scathing comment towards a Slytherin girl who made an off-hand comment about Hermione being there.

It was only about half-way through that the twins and everyone else sitting at the table began to realize there was something wrong with their voices, because every time they tried to speak, their words came out like strangled hisses.

Fred and George shared an identical look of complete confusion. There was nothing off in the taste of their food or their drink, but somehow they'd managed to become the victim of a prank.

A hand reached over to set a king piece from a chess set on the table in front of Fred and George and they both looked to find Hope standing there, her hair bound into a fishtail plait over one shoulder, a hand on a cocked hip as she leaned over to knock over the king.

"Check mate," she said swiftly. "I believe this is what you might call _karma."_

Fred mouthed a swear, but all that came out was another hiss that made Hope arch an eyebrow and simply say, "Well, that's not very nice."

George recoiled in surprise, trying to ask her how she could understand that when he wasn't speaking English, and Hope turned to look at him, the eyebrow still arched.

"Dearest," she said, the endearment in a clear mocking tone, "what you don't know about me could fill a _book."_

Fred was outraged, but appeared to grudgingly admire her ability to get even with them. George didn't even come close to understanding the words he uttered towards her, but she pulled out a small vial of a viscous blue fluid, holding it out to him.

"Serpent voice change potion," she said, "it's absorbed through the skin. I spread it over the table after everyone went to bed. It stays in the body for a few hours."

She flicked the end of her plait over her shoulder before smirking. "You should up your game, boys, I've already left you in the dust."

This time they were both outraged as she gave a light laugh, making her way out of the Great Hall with a grin before Gryffindor house could truly descend into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the girls have officially started classes, that's exciting, and trust Hope to get in trouble before class had even begun, haha.
> 
> The Slytherin bathrooms are based off a design from tumblr.
> 
> We should see a bit more insight into Hope and the Muses from the professors perspectives in the next few chapters.
> 
> I'm not entirely sure how long each 'book' will last, but the current estimate is about eight chapters per 'book', but I haven't properly mapped it out yet, so that could change.
> 
> The prank war has officially begun, so you'll see a lot of the Muses vs the twins, it's going to be epic.
> 
> Dearest is my new favorite thing, since Hope hears it so much from Thanatos she ends up using it a lot.


	11. Intriguing Curiosities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly there's a lot of excitement about the prank war that will be occurring perhaps over the next two chapters.
> 
> To explain about the chapters: The eight chapters is a current approximate, it's likely that ST will end up being longer than eight chapters (plus the ones that were already written), but there will probably be at least five chapters after this one, because ST is designed to be more extensive than LB, but I'm not sure how long ST's first book will end up being.

It was late into the night but Hope was still wide awake, trying not to toss and turn on her bed with too much noise that it would irritate her dorm-mates.

Isla and her friends had learned to be wary of Hope now and knew better than to have a go at her while she was in the safety of her bed, especially since they'd seen her reactivate the curse on her drapes before pulling them around for bed.

But then she gave up, sitting up and pulling the book she'd shoved under her pillow the previous night, tucking her light wand behind her ear as she thumbed through the book on constellations that Mindy had gotten her as a gift of sorts before she'd left for Hogwarts.

The Slytherin common room and dormitories were located in the lowest part of the castle, which meant Hope couldn't go out and see the stars anytime she wanted (she was jealous of Hermione for that reason, since Hermione spent her nights in a high-reaching tower), and that was a bit unfortunate.

Hope traced her fingers over the stars that formed the constellation Aquila, so carefully etched into the parchment. Aquila came from the rather morbid myth of Prometheus, being the eagle that pecked at Prometheus' liver each day as punishment for giving humanity the flame, but it was also said to be the very same eagle that carried Zeus' lightning bolts. It was the contradiction that Hope liked the most.

 _ **"Dermatostixía asterión,"**_ she murmured, her green eyes glowing even though she couldn't see it, moving one of her hands over her left wrist and when she removed it there were ten small star-shaped dots against her fair complexion, the most obvious being the three close together, Tarazed, Altair, and Alshain. The very edge stars stretched around her wrist, hidden when her hand was facing palm-up.

Hope brushed a thumb against her inner wrist where the three stars were now painted.

As far as she knew, her mother didn't have any tattoos like that, or even like the transfigured burn on her shoulder-blade, and Hope was starting to hate just how people were starting to look at her, saying she looked so much like Lily Potter even when she consistently maintained her hair as dark, not red.

It didn't help to be told that she would always be compared to her parents; she saw it in Professor Snape's eyes every day.

* * *

"He hates me."

"He doesn't _hate_ you," Daphne disagreed, swallowing her pumpkin juice while Hermione looked over the Daily Prophet with interest. "If he hated you then he'd take off more points from Slytherin."

"He wouldn't," Hermione said from behind the newspaper, "you're part of his house, he doesn't take points off Slytherin."

Hope shot a scowl towards Hermione, but the brunette missed it while frowning at the news.

"I thought he was all right that first day, though," Hope insisted to Daphne, seeing as Hermione wasn't going to be any help to her cause. "And now it, I don't know, it's like he can't _stand_ the idea of me."

"Well, you did say he and your mum were friends back in the day, maybe you're too much like her?" Daphne suggested.

"Or not enough," Hermione offered, putting down the paper with a frown. "Maybe the problem is your dad, did they get along?"

"Definitely _not_ ," Hope said, remembering what Remus had told her about their feud.

"So it's probably something to do with how much you look like your mum and how much you act like your dad," Hermione said with a shrug. "Maybe he was just getting used to you on the first day."

Annoyance encompassed the entirety of Hope's face, and Daphne couldn't blame her. Death had made her parents famous and you would be hard-pressed to find someone who wouldn't compare Hope to her parents.

"Hey, we were in Gringotts on your birthday," Hermione said suddenly and both Slytherins looked up from their food to see Hermione tapping at an article in the newspaper.

"Yeah…" Hope said slowly. They had stopped in to grab some galleons and for Hermione's parents to set up vault for Hermione to use. It had taken more time to set up Hermione's vault than it was to take the art down to Hope and Daphne's respective family vaults, and they'd been there for a short while.

Hermione twisted the paper around so that they could read the article:

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

"Breaking into a vault that's already been emptied? Talk about bad luck," Hope said.

"Yeah, but wasn't that gamekeeper there?" Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow and glancing surreptitiously towards the head table where the staff was currently sitting. Hagrid with his bushy hair and large frame was rather easy to make out.

"Was he?" Hope's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. She had been a bit preoccupied with telling Remus about something she'd read in her book on Earth Magick. "I don't remember seeing him."

"Neither did I," Hermione said, her eyes distant as she tried to recall that day.

"You two were both doing things, I was just standing there," Daphne said, flicking a hand carelessly and Crabbe gave a grunt of disgust at the gesture and she gave him a sneer before turning back to the conversation. "I don't think he was very good about keeping quiet."

_Daphne's eyes were fixed on one of the chandelier hanging above her, its crystals glittering amidst the spider webs. Hermione was hovering close to her parents who were speaking carefully with one of the goblins at the long upraised counter and Hope was not too far away with Remus leaning heavily on his cane, speaking in low tones but with light smiles._

" _Everything seems to be in order."_

_Daphne's attention shifted to the goblin behind the counter two spots over from where Hermione and her parents were. The man standing before the counter was large and impossibly tall; Daphne tried not to stare._

" _An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," the large man said, his words thick and Daphne's eyebrows furrowed. You would be hard-pressed to find someone in the Wizarding world who didn't know who Albus Dumbledore was, even Hope knew his name, though she generally felt feelings from irritation to outright anger towards him. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."_

_The giant of man handed over a latter sealed with wax and the goblin took it, reading its contents over half-moon spectacles._

_Daphne realized she was paying far too much attention than she should and tried to look a bit more inconspicuous, while still listening in (which was mostly to do with the others being preoccupied, in her defence)._

_"Very well," the goblin said after a long moment, folding up the letter once more and extending it towards the large man. "I will have someone take you down to the vault."_

_And then the man stepped away to follow another goblin and Daphne was left to her boredom once more and the blonde witch gave a sigh._

" _Hey, Daphne!" Hope gestured towards her. "Remus and I are going to take a cart down to the Potter vault, want to come?"_

_Daphne considered it briefly, which went to show how bored she was just standing around, but she had coins in a bag in the pocket of her robes and she tended to get motion-sickness when her parents took her down to the Greengrass family vault._

" _No thanks," she said, looking a little green at the mere thought, "it's probably better for my stomach to stay up here."_

_Hope laughed, taking Remus' arm. "If you say so. We'll be back soon."_

_Daphne gave an unenthusiastic wave with two fingers that earned her a smile from the pair and as they walked past Daphne could hear Remus chuckling._

" _I think you might have a bit of an obsession with lavender, Hope," he was saying._

" _How is a field of wild lavender a bad idea?" Hope complained and Daphne forced herself not to snort._

_There was a hum of quiet conversation from the Grangers, but apart from that, there was nothing until the large man appeared stuffing a small package into his pocket._

"Someone tried to steal something that the headmaster had removed from Gringotts?" Hermione asked flummoxed. "Whatever it is, it must be really valuable."

"Or dangerous," Hope mused.

* * *

The chess king weighed in Fred's hand as he tossed it up and down with contemplation while George examined the solution in the vial that Hope had given them (and that was another curiosity; why had she just given it to them? It felt like she was goading them…).

"We really need this potion," George said and it had only been two days since Hope (and possibly her two friends) had retaliated against their prank.

"We do," Fred complained, sagging his shoulders. "And I doubt she's just going to hand over the ingredients or the instructions."

"It doesn't hurt to ask."

Both boys yelped, whipping around to see Hope standing with her arms looped through her two friends, an eyebrow arched and lips smirking.

Hermione was hiding her giggles behind her free hand, but Daphne didn't bother to smother her snort of amusement.

"You know what they say about Gryffindor stubbornness," Daphne remarked lightly.

"I'm a Gryffindor," Hermione reminded her, like she'd forgotten.

"And I'm stubborn," Hope agreed.

Daphne gave an airy wave.

They had to be the strangest trio of friends that Fred or George had ever met and neither was sure if that was a compliment.

"Will you _please_ give us the potion instructions?" George asked, very put upon, but for the sake of pranking, willing to bend to her will.

Hope considered him, tilting her head just slightly, causing a loose curl to fall free from her plait.

"Better luck next time, dearest," she said.

"Okay, but is next time after we win this little war of ours or—"

Fred was cut off by Daphne.

"What makes you think _you're_ going to win?" she asked, resting her free arm on her hip.

"Experience," Fred said smoothly.

"Oh, we'll see about that," Daphne said and Hope's lips curled.

"I really wouldn't test her," Hope suggested, "she once knocked out a werewolf with a spell she invented on the fly."

The spell itself had been a botched Disarming Spell that had instead knocked Remus clear out while weighing his body down like lead, which Daphne insisted was her intent.

"Where'd you meet a werewolf?" George asked dubious.

"I'm a girl of mystery," Daphne declared and Hermione rolled her eyes as she tugged on Hope who in turn tugged on Daphne –they were like a human centipede of sass and it was only slightly unnerving to Fred–, jerking them into moving once more.

"We're going to be late for Potions," Hermione said, "And Snape takes points off Gryffindors, so…"

Fred and George feverishly checked their watches before rushing off in the direction of the dungeons.

"How do you feel about a short-cut?" Hope asked.

* * *

Fred and George arrived a few minutes late to Potions class and Snape was not pleased.

"Weasley, Weasley, that's ten points each from Gryffindor," he said, before returning his attention to the chalkboard he was scrawling the directions for the Shrinking Solution on the board.

Fred and George took their seats silently, but then George nudged his brother and Fred followed his line of sight to one of the cluster of seats close to the front.

He gaped as Hope Potter gave a small wave with only a few fingers.

_How in the name of Merlin had they beaten them there?_

* * *

One of the problems that the girls had come to realize was that it was hard for them to meet outside of their common rooms just to hang out. Gryffindors didn't like Slytherins all that much, and the same was true vice versa, though a bit more negative towards the Gryffindors. Abandoned classrooms weren't nearly so much fun to meet in and neither was the Great Hall, but the answer came to Hope in the form of Salazar's journal.

"Morea Avis had a study in her family home, before she even met Salazar," Hope explained as they took to the stairs, their bags swinging precariously as they did so. "She'd only been dead a few years when he joined up with the other Founders to create Hogwarts, and he built a secret room that was identical to the one in her family home."

In Salazar's journal he had listed instructions to where to find his wife's study and how to reach it, saying that it had been untouched since her tragic demise and that he had no intention to enter it. It was actually a complete replica, seeing as she had died before Hogwarts was built, and after he had placed all of her things inside it, he had never entered it again.

"You know, have I ever told you how tragic your family history is?" Daphne mentioned to Hope and Hope rolled her eyes.

"What can I say, we Slytherins never do anything by halves," she said, "insanity, matricide, sororicide, love of the Ancient Arts, you know, fun stuff."

Hermione was choking on her laughter. "Oh my _God,_ Hope!"

"What? It's not a lie," Hope said in faux-innocence that neither of her friends believed for a second. "I swear, it's like my family is cursed, maybe _that's_ why there's only one Potter left."

"Or the Potter family wasn't that big to begin with," Daphne muttered dryly as the staircase stopped moving. "Now, where are we?"

"Fourth floor," Hope said, stepping onto the landing and then out onto the long corridor, sliding her hands over the wall as if searching for something the other two couldn't see, only to pause when her foot smoothed other a runic design on one of the stones of the floor. "Here it is."

Hope cleared her throat to speak the phrase clearly: _"Give me a place to stand, and I will move the earth."_

"You've read the _Iliad_?" Hermione asked, surprise colouring her voice and expression briefly before she shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm surprised, with how much you love mythology."

Hope's eyes glittered. "It was actually my grandmother's password to her old quarters. Salazar just made sure that it worked here, too."

"What—?" Daphne started to say, only to pull up short when the stones of the wall slid outward as if they were steps intended to be trodden on. But they hardly looked strong enough to bear their weight, no matter what Hope thought.

"Up we go," Hope said, and, before Daphne or Hermione could stop her, she placed her weight on the first step, taking one after then other until she could press a hand against the trapdoor on the ceiling, opening it and then taking the last step and disappearing inside the hidden room.

Daphne and Hermione shared a bemused look before Hope's head reappeared, poking out of the hole to grin at them. "Come on, you two," she said, "the steps aren't going to break."

And then her head disappeared again, leaving her dubious friends to consider one another before it was decided that Hermione would make her way up first ("You're the _Gryffindor!"_ "That has absolutely _nothing_ to do with _anything!"_ Hermione complained.).

And then they found themselves staring around in awe.

The area was wide and spacious, clearly made for someone who moved around a lot, if not for a few persons. There was a fire flickering the stone carved fireplace, one that Hermione very much doubted ever went out, whether the weather was warm or cold, and there was a large carpet thrown over the floor by the fire with a couch and two poufy armchairs resting on top of it. There was a cushioned seat against the window that had a book resting on it, making it look as though someone had just been sitting there, reading the book.

There was a small staircase that Hermione would bet led up to a secluded sleeping area, a bit like the Gryffindor dormitories, in that aspect, but it was hidden behind a curtain and there were far more things in the room to distract her.

There was a bookshelf stacked to the ceiling with old tomes that looked as though they hadn't been read in centuries, and there was a shelf filled with rare potion ingredients and stoppered potion flasks, each of which, according to Salazar, had a permanent Everlasting Charm on them to keep the potion within from getting old and stale.

"Great, isn't it?" Hope said, grinning widely towards her friends as they moved to examine everything before Daphne flopped down onto one of the armchairs, curling into it with a sigh, looking very much like she could easily fall asleep there.

"It's _fantastic,"_ Hermione hardly dared to breathe, already moving towards the shelf to take one of the books off, thumbing through it with interest.

* * *

If there was one class that Ron Weasley was sure that most people were looking toward to, it was the flying class, you could hardly walk down a hallway full of first years and not find someone talking about it.

He'd even walked past Hermione Granger –famous already for being so steadfast in her friendship with two Slytherins– reading a book on the subject while Daphne Greengrass said, a bit helplessly, to the side of her, "You know, Hermione, I really don't think that's going to help."

Hermione had swatted Daphne.

Ron had never met or even spoken to Hope Potter and he honestly wasn't sure he wanted to. There was something about her that made her seem almost unapproachable. Perhaps it was that she didn't seem to smile unless in the presence of her friends, perhaps it was because rumours had already spread since the very day she'd been sorted into Slytherin instead of the expected Gryffindor of her Dark magic (that was the only way she'd survived the Killing Curse when she was a baby, see).

But Ron thought it was a bit much to accuse an eleven year old of being a Dark Witch when the only thing she had done 'wrong' was be sorted into Slytherin and skip two years.

So that afternoon he found himself standing opposite her and the other Slytherins, her wand stuck through her bun while Daphne –standing beside her like always– was examining what appeared to be something on her inner wrist with a bit of amusement before releasing it with a small laugh as their teacher approached, her robes dark and billowing in the wind as she moved on swift feet.

"I am Madam Hooch," the woman said sharply, her eyes narrowing as she took in them all, "your flying instructor. Now, I hope everyone has found a broom—"

There was a scramble for the few of them that hadn't and Hope found Draco Malfoy standing beside her, and it was difficult to see who was more disgusted by that fact, Hope or Draco.

"Come on, now, hurry up," Madam Hooch said and the two lines smoothed out. "Stick out your right hand over your broom and say up."

There was a chorus of "Up!"s filling the air.

"Up!" Ron said, but his broom just rolled over, and he looked up in time to see the broom beside Hope fly right up into her hand and Draco looking to her in outrage. Hope smirked for good measure as it took the blond wizard another try before he could manage to get his broom in his hand.

Daphne and Hermione both had some rather temperamental broomsticks, if how they merely rolled over when either of the girls uttered the single word was any indication. But Neville Longbottom's hadn't even moved at all. Privately, Ron thought that was a wise choice. Neville was rather clumsy himself with his two feet on the ground, he didn't even want to think what he'd be like in the air.

"Up!" Ron said again, and this time it moved, shooting up to whack him in the face with its shaft. Ron muffled a complaint while Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, the traitors, laughed beside him.

"Oh, shut up," he muttered before he managed to get a grip on the broomstick at long last.

It was a few minutes after that, during which Madam Hooch went over the proper way to hold the broom and how to mount it in a way that would keep you from falling off the end, before she had them mount the brooms in preparation of pushing off the ground.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said to them, her hawk-like easy stern. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle –three–two—"

She had lifted the whistle to her lips, preparing to blow when Neville pushed off a bit too soon and on a broom that was clearly as unruly as Fred and George had described. He shot straight up despite Madam Hooch's yells for him to come back before falling off the broom and falling to collided against the ground with a sickening crack, and Ron knew he wasn't the only one that had winced.

Madam Hooch was at his side in an instant with a soft mumble telling those gathered around that all he had broken was his wrist. She helped straighten him up before turning her steely eyes on all of them. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'"

Ron thought that might be a bit excessive, but he didn't argue as their teacher disappeared towards the castle with Neville in tow.

Then he heard laughter and the first thing he noticed was Hope glaring furiously at Draco as he guffawed.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The laughter belled out on the Slytherin side, but Hope and Daphne didn't join in, and another girl close to the end appeared vaguely annoyed.

"Why don't we break _your_ arm, Draco, and see how _you_ react," Daphne remarked coolly and Pansy Parkinson leapt at the chance (evidently there was a bit of tension between Hope and Daphne and the other Slytherin eleven year olds.

" _Ooh!_ Sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Daphne."

Hope spoke up that time. "I never thought you could actually string enough words together to form an actual sentence."

Laughter rippled from the Gryffindor side, perhaps unintentionally as Hope said something that Ron couldn't understand and could hardly hear to her friend, making her laugh lightly while Pansy flushed a splotchy red and Draco leaned down to pluck a clear ball out of the glass, the Remembrall Neville's grandmother had given him.

But the interesting thing was that Hope had lifted a hand as if to cup something invisible, a murmur of the same ancient language she had uttered before to Daphne passing her lips, but this time, her eyes glowed a faint green and Draco jolted as the Remembrall disappeared, unaware of how it reappeared in Hope's palm at the same moment.

She caught Ron looking and gave him a wink before slipping the orb into her pocket.

* * *

"Potter, you are a _vision_ of loveliness."

Ron didn't think he'd ever heard Fred compliment anyone like that, barring Angelina, of course, and Angelina was snorting into her pumpkin juice as Hope strolled by, eyes a bright hazel now and cheeks pink as she smiled.

"Oh, Weasley, you know compliments don't work on me," she said, and those eyes reflected the very same blue. "The answer's still no."

Fred pouted and George laughed.

"I'm actually here for your brother," she said, sliding away from the twins and towards Ron, who'd dropped his spoon into his soup with a loud clatter in his surprise.

She spared him a smile, pulling the Remembrall out of her pocket and resting it on the table. "You can give this to Neville," she said and he scrutinized her.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?" he asked her curiously and she blinked.

"I don't know him like you do," she said wryly, "besides, I've heard the rumours about me. I wouldn't want someone like that returning my property."

The bitterness in her voice was obvious and Ron took the Remembrall, still contemplating her, like a player who wasn't sure which direction to move his piece.

"Do you want to come with me to give it back?" he asked her, and surprise coloured her face, along with a bit of hesitance, though Ron couldn't imagine why.

"All right," she said after a long moment and Ron grabbed his school bag, leaving Hope to follow at a leisure pace.

Fred gave a wolf-whistle and Hope shot a glare over her shoulder as they took to the staircase, Ron's ears red.

"Sorry about that," he muttered, "they're—"

"Insufferable, yes, I'd gathered," Hope snorted, "Fred more so than George."

"Well, George is a bit less obvious," Ron had to concede.

Hope shrugged. "My uncle would say that subtlety is a learned art."

"The Muggle?" Ron said, his eyebrows rising on his forehead, even as her eyes shifted to meet his, but he couldn't help but ask; Hope Potter's story was rather well-known to Wizarding children, and the fact that she'd gone to live with Muggles was common knowledge.

"No," Hope said wryly, "Remus was one of my father's closest friends, but we're not related…does everyone know about the Girl-Who-Lived?"

She said 'Girl-Who-Lived' like she was talking about someone who wasn't her.

"More or less," Ron said and she sighed.

This was the most he'd seen her talk outside of her friends, or even in front of Fred and George.

An annoyed huff parted from her lips as they finally reached the hospital wing.

Neville was in the hospital bed closest to the door, which was helpful, but he was for the most part out of it, apparently the matron had given him something to calm his nerves.

Hope hung back as Ron placed the Remembrall on the bedside table next to him, but when he turned back there was an odd look on her face.

He meant to ask her about it, but then Hermione's face whipped around the corner making a small gesture.

"Draco's a jerk," Hope told Ron, "but not all Slytherins are bad."

And then she was gone, leaving Ron a bit befuddled.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Hermione realized that she'd left one of her books in Morea's Secret Room. Ordinarily, this wouldn't usually be much of a problem, she could probably grab the book before she went down to breakfast to join Daphne and Hope, but…she really wanted to look over the conclusion to her Transfiguration essay one more time, and she'd shut it in the book.

Hermione sighed before throwing the covers off her bed and opening the curtains that usually hid herself from view, grabbing up her wand from the bedside table and the dressing gown before making her way slowly out of the dormitory where everyone else was fast asleep, padding silently out of the portrait hall.

When the portrait shut behind her, Hermione realized two things; one was that the Fat Lady, the painted image that usually resided in the portrait, was gone, and the second was that Neville was leaning against the wall, fast asleep.

Hermione's lips curled in faint amusement. Neville was rather famous now for forgetting the password into the Gryffindor common room. He must have tried to get in when he'd been released from the hospital wing only to realize he didn't actually know how to get in.

That left Hermione with two options, either waking him up knowing that the Fat Lady might not be back for awhile and have him follow her to Morea's Secret Room, and Hope wouldn't thank her for that, or just wake him up when she got back.

It wasn't like Hermione was going to be gone very long to begin with, so it would be better just to wake him up when she got back.

Hermione gave a nod to herself, stepping carefully down the corridor. It was dark, but the braziers were lit, casting dark shadows on the floor and walls as Hermione searched for a moving staircase to take her downwards.

The problem was, it was so late that halfway down the staircase that led to the fourth floor Hermione realized she'd forgotten which floor she was on.

She muffled a complaint to herself, taking one more staircase down to the third floor, despite her thinking it was only the fourth, and it was only when she started to walk around, sliding her hand along the wall that she realized that she didn't recognize the corridor at all.

Not all of the corridors in the castle had portraits mounted on the wall, that was true, and there was a blank stretch of stone before the trapdoor that led up into the secret room, but at least on that corridor there were other tapestries and portraits a bit further down the line.

Here there was nothing.

Maybe Hermione should just turn back around and go back to bed…after all, she didn't want to be caught out of bounds, that had never really been her thing to begin with. Hermione was more often the girl actually following the rules.

A sharp meow jarred her out of her thoughts and Hermione's attention shifted downwards to where a cat was sitting in front of her. The tufty and long dust-coloured fur and gleaming yellow eyes were enough to tell Hermione that this was Mrs. Norris, the cat that belonged to Argus Filch, the caretaker. She'd only seen the cat a few times, but she remembered overhearing some Gryffindors complaining about the cat, because getting caught out of bounds by the cat was almost as bad as getting caught by Filch, and Hermione really didn't want that.

So she took off, her heart racing in her chest, ducking into the first door she could find on the right hand side, or, she tried to, but the door was locked.

There was a sound of quick moving feet, spurring Hermione to grasp her wand tightly and mutter, _"Alohomora!"_

And she shut it behind her feverishly, breathing hard as the footsteps stopped outside the door she was hovering behind, the only sound her frantic breaths and the sound of her blood rushing in her ears.

But the next moment Filch and his cat, presumably, had gone and she could breathe a sigh of relief.

But her relief didn't remain as she turned around, suddenly remembering Professor Dumbledore's words when they'd first arrived at the school: _"I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."_

And a painful death was certain, that much Hermione knew as her fear reached new heights, because she had found herself in the very corridor that the headmaster had warned all against entering.

Hermione flattened herself against the door in horror. It was the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen, not that that was saying much. It was a three-headed dog, massive and filling up the entire corridor; Hermione didn't doubted that if it had been locked up in a room that it would rip that room apart by mere force.

Its teeth were frighteningly sharp and Hermione found her eyes drifting downwards, following its impossibly dark eyes to its yellow teeth, to the ripple of its muscles beneath its fur, to the lethal-looking nails on large paws, situated in front of a trapdoor, but Hermione couldn't think about that.

All Hermione could think about was how the three heads were growling at her and Hermione really didn't want to end up as dog food.

She grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, only opening it to allow her enough space to dart through it, yanking it shut behind her and uttering the locking spell to keep the dog at bay, flinching at the barking beyond the door.

"Are you all right?"

Hermione jumped at the sudden voice, whipping around, and yelping only to press a calming hand to her heart where she recognized the long dark hair and green eyes.

" _Hope!"_ she gasped. "You're going to give me a _heart attack!"_

Hope arched an eyebrow, a bit bemused by her friend's response, but she waited for her to regain her breath.

"Are you all right?" Hope repeated.

"There's a three-headed dog in there!" Hermione whispered shrilly, jabbing a finger towards the door she'd just locked, the noise beyond it having quieted while she'd regained her breath.

Hope, true to her love of questionable and dangerous things, gained an eager light in her eyes, even as her eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"Really?" she asked, taking a step around Hermione, perhaps to open the door, before Hermione pulled her back; once was enough, thank you, very much. "A Cerberus?"

Of _course_ , Hope and her love of mythology. Hermione almost sighed.

"I don't know, maybe," Hermione muttered, running a shaking hand through her hair. "Can we leave, _please?_ I don't need another heart attack…what are you even doing out?"

Hope shrugged as Hermione looped her arm around Hope's, latching onto her in an effort to calm her. "I sleep better at Potter Manor, but I always did have problems sleeping."

She did walk around a lot, that much Hermione remembered from the days she'd spent the night at Hope's place.

"What about you?" Hope asked as they waited for the staircase to move into place.

"I left my book in Morea's Secret Room," Hermione sighed, "and then I got turned around…"

They took the stairs up to the fourth floor, remaining silent until they reached the spot where the stairs were hidden and Hope murmured the password, glancing around to see if there were any patrols around before following Hermione up the stairs and into the room.

"I almost _died,"_ Hermione moaned, collapsing against the couch, throwing an arm over her eyes, doing nothing more than seriously regretting her life choices. "That dog almost _ate me!"_

Hope arched an eyebrow, but Hermione completely missed it.

"I mean, the dog was massive!" she said, using both hands to emphasize her point. "What on _earth_ is a thing like that doing here?"

Hope shrugged, dropping Hermione's book onto her stomach, making the brunette release a small _"Umph!"_ "I couldn't tell you," she said. "Did you want to sleep here, or do you want to go back to Gryffindor Tower?"

Hermione sat up, narrowing her eyes at Hope. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Why would I be?" Hope asked, brow wrinkled in confusion. "I'm not in Care For Magical Creatures, the only monsters I'm familiar with are the ones from mythology or the Dursleys."

Hermione snorted, gathering her book against her chest. "The Dursleys weren't monsters."

"I'm only calling it how I see it," Hope said without even blinking, and Hermione spared her friend a wry smile before descending the steps.

It took a remarkably short amount of time to return to the seventh floor, where Hermione found that Neville had evidently awakened but the Fat Lady's portrait was still empty.

"Neville," Hermione said, "is the Fat Lady still gone?"

Neville squeaked in surprise, so focused on the other direction that he didn't see either girl. Hermione gave him a small smile and he relaxed.

"Er, yeah, I'm sure she'll be back soon, though," he said, but there was a doubting note in his voice, and he glanced from her to Hope.

The silence was awkward.

"Er, thanks for getting my Remembrall from Malfoy," he managed to say, pink-faced in the firelight.

"I'm not against stealing from other people," Hope said, tilting her head slightly, "but it's different when you're stealing from someone when they don't deserve it." She tugged on a long curl. "I'm Hope, by the way."

"I know," he said before flushing in embarrassment. "I mean, everyone knows who you are."

"I'm Alice's goddaughter," Hope said, ignoring that comment, which Hermione felt was probably the best course of action, and that caused Neville to go positively white.

Hermione presumed that 'Alice' was Neville's mother.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your parents," Hope said, and it was heartfelt. If there was someone who understood what it was like growing up without parents, it was her.

Neville appeared to struggle briefly with his words. "I'm sorry about yours."

"Don't worry," Hope said bitterly, "tragedy is one thing my family's had a lot of."

Then she squeezed Hermione's arm and made her way off in the direction of the dungeons, leaving Neville looking at Hermione in confusion.

Hope freely admitted that she was of the Slytherin line, but even so, it was regarded as a lie by the Slytherin House, and there weren't many outside of the house that knew that bit of information about her and if Hope didn't speak about it, then Hermione wouldn't.

They waited for the Fat Lady's return in silence and it was only when Hermione was back in her own bed that she remembered that there was a trapdoor in the floor that the three-headed dog had been guarding.

* * *

Hope was slow making her way back down to the dungeons, her thoughts loud and echoing in her skull.

She had never seen or even met her own godmother, just as she had never met her godfather, but she remembered well the description that Ragnok had given her back when she'd visited Gringotts before she left Number Four Privet Drive: _"Alice Longbottom is currently in the long-term ward at St. Mungo's along with her husband for insanity, while Sirius Black remains in his cell in Azkaban."_

Hope couldn't imagine visiting her parents and knowing that they didn't have any idea who she was because some Death Eaters had decided to make mince meat out of their minds.

She supposed, technically, Neville was her god-brother of sorts, but she hadn't really talked to him before today, and even that conversation had been a bit awkward; it was easier speaking with Daphne and Hermione than anyone else.

But she was jarred out of her thoughts at the sound of feet moving over stone. However, before she could even consider a good hiding place, a cold hand wound around her wrist, jerking her forward, and dragging her behind a suit of armour. Hope looked up, startled into pale green eyes that were so unlike Remus'. A finger pressed against his lips, miming silence before his form became smoke, fading away.

Hope's eyes were wide saucers. That was definitely not a ghost, and definitely not a skill she'd ever read about.

_Just who was that?_

* * *

"I heard you had an adventure last night, Hermione."

Daphne was sniggering at Hermione while she spread jam on her toast and Hermione groaned against her book where it was resting on the table.

"Adventure is not the word _I_ would use," she said in a bit of a muffle. "Ten out of ten would _not_ recommend."

"Noted," Hope and Daphne said as one, attempting to stifle their amusement, the _traitors._

Hope was reading through a letter that Hedwig had left her with, recognizing the tidy scrawl of Remus' handwriting.

"Remus has precise instructions about how to make your own map of Hogwarts," Hope said to the girls with a bit of bemusement. "So, I'm _pretty sure_ he's made a map before."

"Is it hard?" Daphne asked, swiping the folded parchment from Hope before the girl could give a reply and Hope tried her hardest not to sigh. "Oh, well, I guess it's more complicated than hard…"

"Give me that!" Hope snatched it back from Daphne's grip, almost ripping the parchment before she gave it a bit of a flick. "I wasn't done reading that!"

"What's Remus doing, anyways?" Hermione asked. "Now that you aren't around it's got to be boring at Potter Manor."

Daphne laughed at the scandalized expression on Hope's face.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Hope said, "are you calling my house _boring?"_

"Are you calling it a house?" Hermione asked quirking an eyebrow and Daphne was gone, stifling her laughter into her hands so the scowling Slytherins far from their sides wouldn't have another reason to glare at them.

"We're a bad influence on you," Hope decided.

And it was then that a distraction was caused by a large majority of the Great Hall suddenly losing their heads.

Hope dropped her spoon when Hermione's head completely vanished. _"Holy Hades!_ Hermione, you're head's gone!"

"My head! What about yours!" Hermione's voice came from the blank space above her uniform's collar.

Daphne appeared to be the only one of the three who was spared the fate of having an invisible head, but she was far from being the only one unaffected. There were a few Slytherins as well, as well as several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and a handful of Gryffindors which included the Weasley twins.

"Oh, I'm going to get them," Hope grumbled as George made his way over to their grouping while his twin laughed into the table; evidently he hadn't expected the result to be that strong.

"I believe this belongs to you," George said, smirking as he held out the chess king to the girls and Daphne took it, eyeing the red-head suspiciously.

"An invisibility charm that didn't affect everyone? How did you manage that?" she asked, half-curious and half-grudging respect.

George winked. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Good day, ladies."

He gave an exaggerated bow before making his way back to his brother.

"I'm just curious, but are all Gryffindors that ridiculous?" Hope wondered aloud.

"I think he and Fred have a talent for it," Hermione muttered, taking another drink from her pumpkin juice, which was rather disconcerting, if Hope had to say so herself.

"Oh, we are going to get them back!" Daphne declared.

" _We?"_ Hermione demanded. "Do I look like a prankster to you?"

"Honey," Daphne simpered, "you don't look like anything."

Hope could imagine Hermione's eyes flashing and her cheeks flushing in colour. _"Oi!"_

"Calling it like it is," Daphne said smoothly while Hope smothered her snort. "Come on, Hermione, use your powers for good! You bring up our group average!"

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

Hope merely shook her head, even though neither of them could see it.

* * *

Hope found herself in the library after Defense Against the Dark Arts had gotten out for the day and after the invisibility charm had worn off. The one thing on her mind –barring getting even with the Weasley twins, and that would definitely be happening– was that boy she'd seen the previous night. There had been something very familiar about him.

"Can I help, Weasley?" she asked without looking up from the bookshelf that she was lightly tapping her fingers against, searching for a book, not one in particular, but one to give her the answer she was looking for.

"I'm still trying to figure you out," George admitted, leaning against the shelf and causing Hope to glance up briefly and arch an eyebrow.

"What's there to figure out?" she asked. "Everyone seems to know more about me than I do."

"Ah, the consequences of fame," George gave an exaggerated sigh that made Hope scoff. "But, really, I think this is the most fun Fred and I have had off the Quidditch field, I guess I'm just surprised since you lot are Slytherins."

Hope gave him a look.

"Well, not Hermione," he acquiesced, "but you get my meaning."

"Unfortunately," Hope said, moving past him to try the opposite shelf. It couldn't be this hard to find a book on the Founders, could it? "My house isn't the most welcoming."

And that putting it lightly.

"But I'm not my house," she said, dragging her eyes from the tomes to look at him. "I like having fun and so does Daphne. Just because the rest of our house likes to have sticks up their arses doesn't mean we like it too."

He laughed loud enough to earn him a glare from the librarian, the vulture-like Madam Pinch. "I didn't think I'd ever hear a Slytherin admit that."

"What can I say," Hope muttered, "I'm a curiosity."

_Ah! There it was!_

_The Early Life of the Hogwarts Founders_. With a generic name like that, the chances were that it had to have an image of some kind of the Founders when they were young, and that was definitely what Hope was looking for. She'd almost missed it since the binding was so old and the lettering on the spine was almost completely worn away.

The problem was it was on the shelf that was above her head, just out of reach, even if Hope bounced on the tips of her toes, and she did try that, her fingers barely managing to touch the book's spine.

"Need some help?" George asked, his amusement evident.

"If you wouldn't mind," Hope said, only a little bit embarrassed as he grasped the book easily and pulled it down to a manageable height for her to take it from him. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said. "And, on the off chance that we come to a truce with you, will you give us the recipe to that potion you used on us?"

Hope took the book and handing it to Madam Pinch to check out and a moment later the older witch gave her a sharp nod and a warning to not bend the pages and to have it back within a week.

"That's a bit underhanded," she said smirking, "very Slytherin of you."

She liked how he didn't consider that to be an insult, merely giving her a grin.

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see, but I make no promises," she said, turning on her heel and making her way away from him.

"What'd she say?" Fred asked, coming down the corridor from around the corner.

"Maybe," George laughed, "we might have met our match."

"Never!"

* * *

Hope flicked through the pages, leaning against a stone bench, her eyes moving over the words on the pages and the painted pictures. Then she found it. She was sure she stopped breathing for a few seconds, and she had gone stock still as she gazed at the youthful face of Salazar Slytherin. He was just like that single glimpse that Hope had gotten the night before, the one that had hidden her from a Prefect patrol behind a suit of armour; dark tousled hair, pale eyes, sharp features, and a cocky smile. She was far more surprised that he easily stood beside Godric Gryffindor, someone whom he had apparently hated –if the current rivalries were anything to go by–, smiling secretively, as if they knew something that no one else did.

Hope frowned thoughtfully.

The nineteenth was Hermione's birthday, but she wasn't expecting all that much, to be perfectly honest, but then her friends had told her to meet them in Morea's Secret Room after class.

"Tell me it's not a surprise party," Hermione asked, sounding a bit put upon that was artfully faked.

"If we told you," Daphne said sagely, "then it wouldn't be a surprise."

"You lot don't have to do that," Hermione insisted. "I don't need a party."

"Well, it's not much of a party," Hope pointed out, "I mean, it's just us, some presents and some cake, what could possibly go wrong?"

It was strange to think that there had once been a time before Hope and Daphne, before Hermione had known about magic, before she'd had her teeth straightened, back when she'd been a target in class for her intelligence.

But here she was, taking the piece of cake that Daphne had sloppily cut while Hope laughed, trying not to choke on her pumpkin juice.

"Where did you even get this stuff? The kitchens?" Hermione asked, swallowing a bite of cake before her stomach could give another pathetic growl.

"Don't be stupid," Daphne said, waving a hand carelessly. "We haven't figured out how to get into the kitchens yet."

"The cake and juice is from Mindy," Hope supplied. "She'll take everything back when we're done with it."

Hermione's heart felt like it had grown two whole sizes.

"And Remus sent this for you," Hope added, extending a slip of parchment to Hermione and she took it with a confused expression. "Flourish and Blotts has this thing where you can put money into a tab to use to buy their books, but only if you keep that slip of parchment, so don't lose it."

"That's really sweet," Hermione said, and it was, but if there was someone outside of her parents and her friends that knew about her love for books, it was definitely Remus.

"That's Remus for you, sweeter than chocolate."

"I'm going to tell him you said that," Daphne sniggered and Hope rolled her eyes. "Our gift is pretty simple, and we already told you what it was about a week or two ago."

It was a brush spelled to braid the hair it was run through.

"And a bag of sweets from Honeydukes one out first trip into Hogsmeade," Hope added.

"Yeah, that too."

"You two are the best!" Hermione threw her arms around both girls' shoulders, not even caring if they knocked heads.

* * *

Potions class was a menace and Hope wasn't even getting the worst of it. She was greeted with frosty looks and clipped words whenever Snape had to so much as speak towards her, but Hope had gotten used to his dislike.

He was worse to Hermione and the other Gryffindors, and Hermione took his docking of points with better grace than a few other people that Hope wouldn't name. It was also clear that he didn't particularly like the twins, maybe for the same reason that he didn't like Hope and Daphne as well as the other Slytherins he had.

Unfortunately, today Hope had forgotten her Potions book in her dorm and she didn't have enough time to run back and grab it, because when she'd realized she didn't have it, the class had just begun.

If you could call it even a class, personally Hope felt it was more like cooking magical soup with supervision.

When Remus had taught them he had gone over everything that went into making a potion, the effects that heating and cooling had, what kind of ingredients mixed well together and which ones should be avoided. Remus had made Potions fun, but Snape just sat back and watched them all flounder and when they inevitably did so, it was blamed on their own shortcomings rather than his as a teacher.

Hope ripped some lovage leaves up before throwing them into the cauldron, stirring anti-clockwise, and adding some sneezewort.

She was sharing Hermione's book, which explained why both of their potions were turning up a bit less thick than they should be. Hope tensed when he passed behind her, stirring stiffly and when she looked over his arm to the parchment that listed their grades out of ten on each of the potions they did in class, which went towards their final grade, and her jaw dropped in outrage at the fat zero next to her name.

"Maybe he'll revise it?" Daphne suggested once they'd left the dungeon, but it was clear in her voice that she doubted that would happen.

"I wish we still had Remus as a teacher," Hope bemoaned before pulling out her compact mirror and saying clearly, "Remus Lupin."

"You're going to complain to Remus?" Hermione asked.

"I'm irritated, of course I'm going to complain to Remus," she said shortly before the werewolf's face appeared in the mirror, concern clear in his eyes behind rectangular spectacles that suited him very well.

"Hope? Are you all right?" he asked.

"Say, hypothetically, you had someone brewing a Confusing Concoction and they followed the instructions but still ended up with it being a little runny, what kind of grade would you give that person?"

Remus considered her for a few moments. "Out of ten?"

Hope nodded and the other two peered over her shoulder, listening in on the answer.

"Perhaps a seven, if they did everything—"

"Now that's outrageous!" Hope complained. "He gave Hermione a seven and me a zero and we were using the _same damn book_ , Remus! At the very least I deserved a _five!"_

Remus grimaced on the other end. "Well, I—"

"Hope Potter?"

Three heads looked up and Hope found herself staring at Fred and George's spectacled older brother, Percy, a Gryffindor Prefect.

"Depends on the day," she said and Remus, the mirrors still being connected, chuckled.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to come collect you," the red-haired lad said, "he'd like a word with you in his office."

Hope's smile was indulgent. "Of _course_ he would," she said, her voice dripping in saccharine before she lifted the mirror to her eye-level. "Remus, if I ever express any desire to return to the Dursleys, you know it's because that manipulative old codger got to me."

She closed the mirror before she could even hear his reply and Percy looked startled at the callous way she referred to the headmaster, but Hope's day was already off to a terrible start and she had always been painfully clear about her feelings concerning Albus Dumbledore.

Hope followed after Percy as he led her up several flights of stairs before coming out before a gargoyle that was shaped very much like a griffin.

" _Acid Pop,"_ Percy told it and the gargoyle moved out of the way and he ushered her inside and up the staircase.

The stairs were short and came out at a door and Hope paused, considering being obnoxious for a brief moment before knocking loud enough to be heard and opening the door.

There was nothing but silence when Hope creaked the door open, peering inside before opening it a bit more and stepping inside, looking around curiously. She had never seen anything like it before, not even in Potter Manor. There were shelves upon shelves of books that would quite possibly take her a lifetime to read, the walls were completely covered with portraits, and there were a surprising number of strangely shaped silver objects that either made soft whistling noises or emitted light puffs of smoke.

But Hope's attention was fixated more on the phoenix that was sitting on its mount, its feathers a bright red and gold. It trilled her a soft crooning note and Hope presumed was meant to be comforting in some way.

"Ah, Hope, good, come and sit."

The way he spoke to her in such a familiar way, like a grandfather would, grated on her nerves. It was a kind of familiarity Hope reserved for family and close friends, which was to say not him.

But she came forward, moving past the phoenix to sit opposite him behind his large desk and high-backed chair. She wondered if the intention was to make her feel small.

Professor Dumbledore was dressed in deep blue robes and his eyes were twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

"How are you finding your classes?" he asked her and Hope got the feeling that he wanted to ask something else and was trying to build up to it.

Not a chance.

"I have a class in twenty minutes," she said shortly, "why don't you say what you really want to?"

"Very to the point," he said kindly, his cause not yet lost, "very like Lily in that respect."

He already had a point against him for that.

"As I'm sure you're aware, living with Remus Lupin presents a certain…danger—"

Hope's eyes darkened to solid black, her hair lightening just slightly to bronze, making her look very much like she could have been Thanatos' daughter.

"Oh, I see," she said, her tone positively frigid. "First you tried to convince the man who is in so many ways the uncle I should have been raised by that I was safer in a home where I was the least loved by far and the least cared for, but since that didn't work you're going after him? After all you did to get him accepted into Hogwarts? _Really?"_

Disgusted didn't even begin to cover the expression that Hope was currently wearing as she grabbed her bag and stood once more before Dumbledore could so much as speak.

"Remus didn't have to stay and look after me," she said coolly, "but he did, and I love him for it, because _he's_ my _family_. The only family I will accept living with are him or my grandfather if he had the ability to sleep—"

"Grandfather?" Dumbledore said startled, but Hope was already talking over him.

"Did you honestly think that the manor wasn't protected after living with him for more than a year?" Hope demanded. "From what I can tell, the only danger to me, is _you_ , so good day, Professor."

And then she stormed out, slamming the door after her and Dumbledore had the worst sense of foreboding.

* * *

"Hey, are you all right?" Lee Jordan asked during Transfiguration, leaning across the aisle from his desk, his brows furrowed.

"Peachy," Hope said shortly. "Why?"

Lee looked to Fred and George and they shrugged. "No reason."

Why bother telling her that she looked ready to poke someone's eye out with her wand.

* * *

Hope's mood had greatly improved by the afternoon when she was walking out of lunch with Hermione and Daphne to a very familiar "Hello, dearest."

Hope positively brightened at the sight of Thanatos, albeit in robes that a wizard would wear in the stead of the dark toga that suited him best.

" _Grandfather!"_ she said, throwing her arms around his neck as he stooped down to her height, wrapping his arms around her back and swinging her in a circle that made her laugh despite the cold leeching into her skin from his merest touch.

Hermione and Daphne opted to make themselves scarce.

"Is this a friendly visit or is there more cryptic advice for me?" Hope asked, grinning, and the answering laugh wasn't Thanatos'.

A woman stepped out of his shadow with red hair to her shoulders nowhere near as gingery as the Weasleys, with dancing blue eyes, and a mothering smile that clashed with the sword at her hip and the dagger at her thigh.

"Dearest," Thanatos said again, this time very careful, as he lowered her to the ground. "I'd like you to meet someone…this is Thalia Blackwood, she's descended from my son Antioch."

Hope froze, looking at the woman. The last she'd been aware of her closest living family member had been Tom Riddle, before he'd killed her parents and tried to kill her before his death.

"You're—" she started faintly and Thalia smiled.

"Your very distant cousin?" she presumed. "Yes. It's very nice to meet you, Hope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's likely I might end up doing a chapter for each month with another one for Christmas break, but I make no promises.
> 
> We'll be seeing the Blackwood siblings at some point because I need some kickass Blackwoods in my life. I know some of you weren't a fan of the Greek Myths Arc in Looking Beyond (for those of you that don't know, it's where the idea for the Blackwoods came from), but they are a part of Hope's story
> 
> I'm really enjoying the friendly Geope interactions, though, more than I was expecting to, and there's still more of the prank war to be seen.
> 
> In other news, its finals week and I get like four days off before I start summer classes, so there might be another chapter this weekend.


	12. A Family Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, looks like you lot are enjoying the Blackwoods, don't worry, there'll be more of them in this fic than Looking Beyond :)
> 
> I don't know how it happened, but Thanatos has been getting a lot of love. Obviously, I like him or I wouldn't write him into the fic so much, but I'm glad you all do, too.
> 
> And an explanation about the Blackwoods: They're OCs, since I created them, they're part of a massive family tree of the Slytherin family that I posted on tumblr awhile back, but they aren't from another series (barring that they had a small part in Looking Beyond).
> 
> There are no immediate plans to make the girls Animagi; they'd probably think it's a lot of effort that can be spent working on other things

Hope looked from Thalia Blackwood to Thanatos, incomprehension clear as day on her face. "I don't understand," she said slowly, green eyes darting between them, "I thought Antioch didn't have any children to continue his line."

Then she looked to Thanatos in accusation. " _You_ never told me I had more family."

She didn't think she'd ever seen the god look so uncomfortable, and the woman –Thalia– arched an eyebrow in amusement at the response.

"I thought it was best, given how you reacted the last time you discovered there was another Slytherin," Thanatos said as delicately as he could manage.

Hope rested her hands on her hips, scowling at him for good measure. "The last Slytherin descendant I was aware of was the one who killed my parents and gave me _this!"_ She jabbed a finger towards the scar on her forehead as if anyone could have forgotten it with in standing out starkly against her skin.

"I like her," Thalia laughed and Thanatos tossed her an expression that was vaguely petulant. "I'm guessing you have a rather extensive family tree?"

"Very," Hope admitted, crossing her arms as she considered the woman. "And you're _definitely_ not on it."

"Well, Antioch Peverell had a relationship with a woman named Atalanta from Greece, my ancestor," Thalia explained as best as she could. "They weren't married and he certainly died rather soon after she discovered she was with child."

Hope frowned. "How'd you get the Blackwood name?" she asked curiously. "I thought that was just Damian Blackwood, Nelda's husband."

Thalia gave a sheepish smile at that. "Well, Atalanta's son technically had Blackwood blood and she didn't use a name, so she gave him that name."

"Just because?" Hope's lips twitched.

"Well, it is a nice name," Thalia laughed, "but I might be a bit biased."

The woman standing before her wasn't quite what Hope had been expecting though she didn't exactly have much to compare to; Hope hadn't met anyone that closely related to her on the Potters side (though she had found out that Daphne was the great-granddaughter of the sister of her great-grandmother, so they were _slightly_ related).

"I should leave," Thanatos said a bit flatly and both Hope and Thalia looked at him in surprise, having briefly forgotten that he was standing there. "I am a _god_ , and I have souls to collect."

"We're not keeping you," Thalia remarked in amusement and he gave her a distinct frown that had Hope stifling her sniggers behind her hand.

"I am very seriously regretting introducing you two to one another," Thanatos gave one last grumble before the shadows expanded around them and he became one with them, vanishing like smoke.

"I don't suppose you have any classes immediately to be getting to?" Thalia prompted Hope, capitalizing on Thanatos' absence.

"Not for about an hour," Hope said, checking her watch with a frown, "Charms."

"Good," Thalia gave her smile that made Hope stop and blink, because it was the kind of motherly smile that Daphne and Hermione's mothers wore when speaking with their daughters or their daughters friends and Hope wasn't all that accustomed to having it turned in her direction, "it gives us time to talk."

Hope's eyebrows drew together briefly but she still hummed in agreement, unknowingly lightening her dark hair just slightly to a dark auburn, nearly Thanatos' hair colour, but not quite. She didn't doubt Thanatos' word, the god wasn't the type to lie about something like family, but she also didn't know this woman, Thalia Blackwood.

They walked in silence for a few moments, several students passing them by, giving the pair a few odd looks that Hope was sure were mostly directed towards Thalia because she wasn't one of the adults that worked in the castle and was unfamiliar to them.

"Did you know my father?" Hope asked her, lifting her gaze when they took one of the moving staircases, waiting for it to slide into place so they could step off onto the ground floor, making their way towards the viaduct courtyard.

"No," Thalia said regretfully, "I'm sorry, I didn't. The Blackwood family tends to stay in Greece, but we were aware of our sister relations to the Potter and Gaunt families. I don't think your father knew I or my sister, Aglaia, existed."

"You have a sister?" Hope asked her with interest and Thalia's lips thinned into a line, her jaw tightening briefly.

"Not for several years," she sighed. "She was an Auror that was killed in an explosion a few years before my son was born."

"Oh," Hope tripped over one of the steps as they moved towards a stone bench in the unpopulated viaduct courtyard. "I'm sorry."

Thalia gave her a soft smile. "Well, our family has always been one steeped in tragedy."

Hope's lips twisted, but she didn't bother to deny the truth because she'd read the account of the deaths of Damian Blackwood, Morea Slytherin, and Nelda Slytherin. Tragedy lied in the very bones of their family, but it made Hope feel a bit warm to be able to say 'their family' because it had always been just her.

"But tell me about yourself," Thalia invited, "Thanatos isn't very talkative."

A snort escaped Hope's lips before she could stop it and then she cleared her throat. "After my parents were killed I was put with my mother's sister's family—" Hope made a painstaking effort to distance herself from the word 'aunt' and it was something that didn't slip by Thalia. "I didn't like them, they didn't like me, so we were kind of stuck. I didn't know about magic until I realized I could change my looks without really trying and then I started looking up things about magic, that's when Grandfather showed up and sort of pushed me in the direction."

Eyebrows rose high on Thalia's forehead. "That doesn't necessarily sound like it would end well."

Hope gave a half-shrug. "It ended all right," she acquiesced. "I left the Dursleys place in the middle of the night and cab to Wales. I'm living at Potter Manor now with an old friend of my dad's, so it's practically paradise compared to what I had before."

Thalia, who had started in surprise when Hope had mentioned living at Potter Manor, relaxed a bit to discover that someone was living with.

"I'm really into Earth Magick, though," Hope added and that made Thalia smile.

"The Ancient Arts aren't that common anymore…but I'm sure that most of them are _illegal_ up here…"

The expression on Hope's face soured abruptly. "Because a government that lets Death Eaters walk free is the kind of thing that should be making decisions on magicks they've never seen in action."

Thalia gave her a wide grin. "So you're the stubborn type, are you? That's good, it's practically a requirement for Slytherins."

Hope fiddled with the strap of her bag where it was looped around her arm from when they'd both sat down. "What about you? Your family lives in Greece?"

"Yes," Thalia's eyes glittered fondly. "My son and daughter, Galen and I think you met Agathe?"

"She was very cheerful," Hope shook her head with a snort.

"Yes, she can be like that," Thalia laughed. "We live in a city called Lamia. Aggie's around your age, she's still in school at Athene Academy, but Galen's graduating in December, a bit later than usual, he'll be fifteen by then."

Hope couldn't help but be impressed. She'd read about the different schools of magic around the world, but Athene Academy had always been considered a bit controversial with how young the students started school and how young they started work.

"I realize that you don't know me or my children very well," Thalia added, "but we are family and I'd like to…bridge the gap, so to speak."

"The last family I knew gave me a room in the cupboard under the stairs and called that a kindness," Hope said wryly, "trust me, whatever you do is a step up from them no matter what."

"I'm sorry, _what?"_ Thalia couldn't help but ask bleakly in disbelief, hardly daring to believe the words that had left Hope's lips, but Hope was distracted by the sight of Daphne and Hermione hovering at the large doors, gesturing for her to hurry up.

"Sorry, I've got to get to class," she said with a sheepish smile, "but maybe I could owl you?"

Though she was still a bit thrown by Hope's previous admission, Thalia still was in enough control of her mouth to tell Hope that she'd look forward to it.

"Who was that?" Hermione asked when Hope came striding towards them, her hair darkening to her typical black once more.

"A distant relative," Hope said lightly as they started the climb up the stairs to the Charms classroom.

"How distant?" Daphne asked, throwing a scrutinizing glance over her shoulder even though they'd long since passed out of sight of the older witch.

"She's the descendant of Antioch Peverell who was the brother of Ignotus Peverell, who's my ancestor," Hope ticked off the relations on her fingers.

"What was her name?" Hermione asked curiously, and a bit dubiously.

"Thalia Blackwood."

Daphne arched an eyebrow, impressed. "Are you related to every old family there is?"

Hope gave a half-hearted shrug with an easy smirk. "What can I say? My family's special like that."

* * *

"Have you found Vela yet?"

It was very early in the morning but Astronomy class was still going on and George found himself sitting next to Hope as she calmly charted her constellations. One of her eyes was squinted shut while the other one was focusing through the telescope, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"What's the matter, Weasley? Having trouble?"

George scrutinized her thoughtfully, trying to figure out if she was trying to goad him, which, knowing her, she was. "Stars were never my strongest suit."

"Skip it and go to the next one," Hope advised, but that didn't help either because he couldn't really make out anything.

He grumbled under his breath for a few moments and it was only then that Hope spoke again.

"Maybe your lenses aren't clean," she suggested and George blinked before checking them to find, a bit sheepishly, that she was right.

He gave a polite cough. "Never mind," George said, his ears pink, "I've got it covered."

Hope stifled her laughter but he still caught a glimpse of her lips curling into a grin, and then they descended into silence once again until Hope's attention was drawn away by her friends comparing their mapping of Aquarius.

"How do you know so much about stars?" George asked her once he'd plotted two constellations.

"I like mythology," Hope said, turning her head towards him and her eyes were pale in the darkness, almost silver like the stars above them, "a lot of constellations have to do with mythology…and the sky's really open where I live."

"That's _it?"_

Hope rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't you be doing something, Weasley? Like plotting your constellations or trying to convince me to tell you what our retaliation prank is going to be?"

That caught George's attention. "Would you really tell me?" he asked eagerly.

" _No,"_ Hope said blandly, laughing when he positively deflated, "but you're always welcome to try."

He could hear Daphne's tell-tale sniggers and the sound of Hermione stifling her giggles on Hope's other side and he gave her a petulant pout that didn't faze her in the slightest.

* * *

Remus had to wonder if something was wrong when Hope dropped by the manor unexpectedly via Mindy, giving him a bright smile as she did so.

"Hi, Remus! I'm not going to be here long," she informed him as she pulled off her school cloak, still dressed in her school uniform, her green and silver tie swinging with each movement.

"Is something wrong?" Remus asked in surprise, but Hope was certainly in a better mood than her letters or mirror-calls implied.

"I'm just checking the family tree," Hope hummed making her way towards the ballroom where she'd pasted the cloth with the names of her distant relatives what seemed so long ago. "Apparently I've got some cousins left."

"The Potter family is related to several different families, that's not really that surprising," Remus remarked, following after her, leaning heavily on his cane, as the full moon was approaching in the next two days. "I'm sure you have a lot of cousins."

"These ones are descended from one of the Peverell brothers," Hope hummed, her shoes clicking on the floor as she entered the brightly lit room to where the tapestry was spread across the wall. It was rather extensive, but that had mostly to do with the Potter side of things than the Peverell and Hope followed the line from _Salazar Slytherin_ and _Morea Avis_ that led down to _Nelda Slytherin_ and then to _Sylvester Slytherin_ all the way to _Adeliade Peverell's_ three sons, but where it had been previously blank next to _Antioch Peverell's_ name there were new names that followed.

A line connected his name to a single one: _Atalanta_ before drawing downwards towards a new name, _Achilles Blackwood_ , just like Thalia had said. And if Hope followed the lines to the most recent generation there was _Thalia Blackwood_ in looping thread connecting to someone named _Nileas Ganis_ and then to their two children, _Galen_ and _Agathe._

"Thalia Blackwood came to see me at school, with Grandfather," Hope admitted, "we talked, it was nice."

Really, Remus wasn't sure what to say to that, given that conversing with strangers wasn't exactly a preferable course of action, but if Thanatos vouched for the woman in question…well, there wasn't really any reason to consider for the god to lie about that, that and the tapestry was enchanted and not easily hoodwinked.

"Her daughter was the girl I ran into when we were out shopping at Corinth Crossroads," Hope added.

" _Ah,"_ Remus said. "You like her better than the Dursleys with barely knowing her for, what, less than a few hours?"

Hope gave him a dry look. "It doesn't take much for me to like someone better than the Dursleys."

And Remus couldn't help but laugh, though he still held a bit unease about the girl who was his pseudo-niece having a conversation with someone she hardly knew.

But it was Hope's life and if Thanatos vouched for her, who was he to disagree?

* * *

After a week with no sign of Hope and her friends retaliating, Fred and George were noticeably edgy, and it was _all their fault!_ What kind of person waited _this long_ to do a revenge prank?

Or maybe that was the prank?

"Maybe they aren't going to do a prank?" Lee Jordan suggested to his friends after laughing when they both jumped at his sudden appearance in Transfiguration class, which was due to start in a few minutes and said girls were sitting on the opposite side of the aisle, two rows back. Hope and Hermione were arguing about something in the book that they clearly didn't agree on ("It says right here that the wording is key!" Hermione could be heard insisting and jabbing her finger at the book while Hope scoffed, "I'm telling you it's intent! If wording was true then there wouldn't be any way to do nonverbal spells and Remus and Mindy do those all the time!"), but Daphne caught their eyes and smirked before giving them a wink.

" _Nah,"_ Fred decided, "they're up to something, I can _feel_ it."

But they didn't have the chance to agree before Professor McGonagall arrived, calling her class to order and taking roll before crossing her arms and surveying them all with beady eyes.

"Today you will be learning about Animagi in a purely written lesson."

There were a few groans at that; written only lessons were fully note-taking classes and therefore more likely to fall asleep in, but Hope's eyes gleamed at the subject, seeing as her father had been an Animagus when he was alive.

She spun her quill around between her fingers before dipping it into her inkwell of blue ink. The professors were pretty lax about ink colour on assignments and notes other than exams –where it was required to use black– but students still tended to gravitate towards ink colours that went with their houses, hence why Hermione's notes were done in red and Daphne's green, but Hope liked the blue the best.

"Now, an Animagi is a witch or wizard who can transform themselves into an animal at will. This is a skill that can only be learned, not inherited. Having a parent as one, in this case, does not pass their skill along to you and it does not make the path to becoming an Animagus any easier," Professor McGonagall began and then the only sound that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment.

"The process to becoming an Animagus is considered, by some, to simply be too arduous to perform without proper supervision, thus the Ministry monitors those making any attempt to do so." She paused when Alicia's hand shot up into the air. "Yes, Spinnet?"

"Do you know anyone who's become an Animagus, Professor?" she asked eagerly and Professor McGonagall's lips twitched just slightly.

"There is one I can think of," she remarked dryly, turning towards the desk and Hope's eyebrows disappeared into the dark fringe on her forehead when her form drew downwards, shrinking and shrinking until the cloak became fur and the grey eyes became yellow and distinctly cat-like, fitting the feline that leapt up onto the front in order for them all to see her better.

Hope wasn't the only one that came out of her seat in awe. Their professor had transformed into a silver tabby with markings around the eyes not unlike the spectacles she wore.

She leapt off the desk and became a human once more, the transition almost instantaneous, eyes glinting slightly as the students returned to their seats and readied for the next round of notes.

"Animagi can only transform into one animal," Professor McGonagall continued, "and that animal is different and particular to each person that wishes to become an Animagus."

Hope's hand shot into the air and she pointed to the Slytherin. "Potter?"

"Do you only find out what animal you are when you complete the process or is there a way to find out sooner?" Hope asked, trying to imagine a younger version of her father transforming for the first time and then freaking out once he'd realized he'd become a stag; she allowed herself a private smile at the thought.

"There is a way to find out before hand," Professor McGonagall conceded, "it involves a series of potions and incantations and also holding a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month—"

There were several noises of disgust at that; mandrake leaves had a tendency to leave a nasty taste in the mouth.

"Usually practitioners avoid that process if they can help it and just end up being surprised with what animal they end up transforming into."

"Personally, I'd _avoid_ the mandrake leaf," Daphne muttered to Hope and the green-eyed witch couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe if you were dedicated enough you might try it," Hope whispered back and Hermione had to stifled her amusement behind her hand.

"This is an incredibly advanced technique and I would advise that if any of you wanted to try your hand at becoming an Animagus, at least make sure you are properly supervised," Professor McGonagall stressed once more.

"Each Animagus bears an identifying mark that are recorded when registered with the Ministry as a way to differentiate them and an ordinary animal of the same species," she lectured. "The mark is rather simple, for me you might have noticed that the tabby bore markings around her eyes where my spectacles are, but they can be something like a darker or lighter patch on their animal's body, and scarring or loss of a limb. If you have lost a finger in your human form it's likely that your animal form will be missing something similar, such part of their paw or claw or damage to a hoof, to name a few examples. Now, who can give me a suggestion for why someone would want to become an Animagus?"

Several hands went up and various scenarios rang through the room.

* * *

Hope wasn't exactly prone to headaches until she'd come to Hogwarts; personally, she was blaming Slytherin house for most of it because she honestly couldn't imagine a house more aggravating.

She prided herself on having the traits Slytherin house was known for: ambition, resourcefulness, cunning. But it was easier when you actually had the blood of Salazar Slytherin running through your veins.

She was proud to be a Slytherin, but Slytherin house was something entirely different. It was like the reflection of the worst possible side of Salazar Slytherin. It was true that he had been wary of admitting Muggle-born children into the school, but with how his younger brother and parents were killed by Muggles, that view wasn't surprising. The aligning with the Dark Arts, though, that had been more of his son Adrian's forte than his, though in his journal he had admitted to studying them for research's sake.

The older students were so proud of the Dark Arts that their families were involved in that it made Hope's insides coil in on themselves.

It was like walking carefully around mines whenever she or Daphne were in the common room and it couldn't have been made plainer that Hope as the person who had supposedly killed the Dark Lord (which was frankly dubious at best, because in what _world_ was a baby strong enough to kill anything other than flies they managed to catch in their fat fists?) was the least welcome there.

Hope had wondered no less than three times if she should bother dropping the bomb about being related to Salazar Slytherin, because she wasn't exactly hiding it, but, at the same time she wasn't making it very obvious. Everyone that was at the gala at the Ministry knew the name she'd identified herself with, and it hadn't been Potter.

But no one had even mentioned it…maybe they all thought she was lying?

Well, that wasn't her problem; they could believe whatever they wanted, regardless of whether or not it was the truth.

Hope twisted in her bed, trying to go back to sleep, but she just couldn't. The nightmares she had involving flashes of green light and high-pitched laughter were growing more and more prevalent and Hope was honestly considering going to Madam Pomfrey for something that could help her sleep because this was frankly exhausting.

She laid on her back and stared at the canopy above her with its boring single colour, contemplating marking it with stars at least to just make it interesting before pulling herself into a sitting position and checking the time on her watch and stifling a groan.

It was almost six in the morning, so there wasn't really any reason to be awake, much less wanting to get up and do anything as it was a Saturday. But here she was, not able to sleep hardly at all, so she opened her curtains, peeking around to make sure that no one was awake, but all the other curtains were drawn shut around the other beds, keeping their slumbering occupants from view.

So Hope tip-toed around her bed to unlatch the trunk and pull out some casual wear that Mindy always had a clucked her tongue at –she was old-fashioned that way– and make her way slowly down to the baths to freshen up.

She reappeared several minutes later wearing comfortable jeans and plaid top, pulling on the boots Mindy had once gifted her as quietly as possibly before scrawling a note to Daphne on the bedside table and grabbing her broom and the messenger bag she kept her Earth Magick things in as she made her way silently out of the dorm.

Hope hadn't been flying in awhile, not since she'd come to Hogwarts, that had sort have been on the back burner so to speak. And Hope missed flying even though she hadn't done all that much of it to begin with. There was something freeing about being up there without anyone to tell you what to do or anything like that.

It was pure freedom, and that was what Hope loved.

The wall melted away to allow her to leave the common room and she darted down the hallway to take the first staircase she saw. The castle was still a bit of a maze, but at least it was a bit more manageable now, as long as Hope stuck to familiar routes she couldn't get too lost. But if she did, Michael the Suit of Armour showed up rather quickly to escort her, though she hadn't caught sight of Salazar Slytherin in his younger form since the initial sighting.

The sun had barely risen when Hope made her way through the door that led out to the quad courtyard. She would have gone to the viaduct courtyard –she liked that one better– but the door to this one was more likely to be unlocked in the early morning.

Hope's stomach gave a pitiful moan as Hope stood in the silent courtyard, throwing one leg over her broom and mounting it, her bag swinging painfully against her leg as she did so and Hope couldn't help but feel a bit petulant. Breakfast wasn't out until at least another hour and Hope still didn't know where the kitchens were located (she knew the twins knew, but she wasn't going to ask them, was she?).

"Mindy," she called, her voice echoing loudly in the silence and a resounding crack answered her summons and a moment later Mindy was standing there, giving her mistress a polite bow.

"Mistress Hope," Mindy said simply in that squeaking voice of hers.

"I could do with an apple," Hope said, nearly laughing at the exasperation that warped Mindy's face as she vanished and returned once more with one red and gleaming and Hope took it.

"Is that _all,_ Mistress?" Mindy asked just this side of wry.

"Yes, thank you," Hope grinned as the house-elf disappeared, shoving the apple into her bag and kicking off into the air, rising higher and higher before high-tailing away from the castle.

Hogwarts Castle was located in the Highlands of Scotland so there was a great deal of long sprawling greenery as far as the eye could see, stretching up into mountains when you got far enough.

Hope grinned as the wind whipped her face as the castle grew smaller and smaller until it vanished completely, leaving Hope to pull her broom closer and closer to the deep blue water, the toes of her boots skimming across the surface.

She flew for a short while, not long enough for the sun to rise very much, but enough for her to find a rocky island amidst the sea of blue, seemingly untouched and uninhabited, but given its small size, that was unsurprising.

Hope pulled herself off the broom to survey the relatively small island. It was private and small, but on it things grew and that was good enough in her book. It was difficult to practice Earth Magick at the school because a great deal of it involved drawing magic and power from the environment and shut away in a castle wasn't exactly helpful in that manner.

The soles of her boots scratched against the rocks as she began a short trek up to its highest point to rest her back against the thickest tree trunk she could find, propping herself up against it and pulling out her apple and book, reading silently:

_Imbalance within the user creates an imbalance within their spells. Every magic user has the potential to feel their magic within themselves, but few remember how to do so, as it requires a great deal of focus and most magic users care more about the result of their casting than the effort it takes to reach those ends—_

"Fascinating read," an unfamiliar voice commented beside Hope and Hope, knowing she had arrived on a relatively uninhabited island –barring, of course, the various birds flitting above and the small animals tucked away into burrows–, unleashed a startled scream, recoiling away from the speaker and flinging the book at them and trying to grab up her wand all at once.

"You're a bit jumpy," the owner of the voice remarked, arching a dark eyebrow and Hope found herself staring at the very same boy that had kept her from being caught out of bed after hours weeks ago, staring at the youthful face of Salazar Slytherin.

His dark robes were simple, betraying no hint of the colour green that he was so often aligned with, with his hair black and pooling over his shoulders like ink and green eyes several shades off from Hope's own colour.

And Hope's eyes drew positively wide. " _You!"_ she gasped, gaping at him, which only served to amuse him as he knelt to pick up the book where she had thrown it and Hope couldn't help but stare as he managed it fine despite being dead for several centuries. That definitely ruled him out as a ghost.

"Me," Salazar Slytherin agreed, green eyes glinting as he smirked. "Hello, Elpis."

Hope's grip tightened over her wand. "What are you?" she demanded.

He flicked through the pages of the book on Earth Magick with vague interest and a fond smile, tracing a finger lightly over the words that had been so carefully etched in ink. "What do you think I am?" he asked instead, not looking up.

Hope's brain took a few moments to function, still startled that she was miles away from Hogwarts and speaking to a younger version of the Hogwarts founder to whom she was a descendant of. Then she focused on him.

There was nothing remotely ghostly about him. It was as if he was a normal boy enrolled in fifth year that had forgotten his indentifying tie. She frowned, focusing on the book cradled in his hands, gently as if holding something sacred and revered, but it was the writings of Morea Avis, his wife, so it would make sense that he'd feel that way about it.

But there was something off about the cover.

Hope pulled herself upright and stalked over to where he was standing, a scowl marring her lips as she yanked the book out of his hands with a _"Give me that!"_

He held up his hands in surrender when she took the book off him, examining the cover intently, because where he'd touched was now a pale shadow in the shape of a handprint.

She frowned looking from the shadow to the boy standing at her side, clearly waiting for her to come to a decision about what exactly he was.

And it was the shadow that caught her memory the most, though it had been from a few months ago at least, back when she'd been reading through some of her mother's old books.

Then looked towards him in surprise and Salazar rubbed his hands together like an excited little boy that she knew he had long since passed.

"You're a spectre," she realized, trying to recall a passage within one of her mother's old books, "you can maintain a solid form for a short amount of time."

He grinned widely, vibrating with a kind of manic energy that couldn't be bottled up. "Well done," Salazar said.

"But they rarely stick around for centuries after their death like ghosts do," Hope insisted to counter him."

"What can I say?" Salazar said simply. "Spectres aren't afraid of death, and neither am I."

"But I saw you in the school and now you're here," Hope said flummoxed, gesturing around her to the high reaching trees and the craggy rocks, and then she became flustered. "Have you been _watching_ me?" Her voice rose a few pitches and Daphne would have made fun of the sound if she were there.

"Not nearly as much as you think," Salazar assured her, though clearly amused by her response, "it takes effort to keep a physical form, though…" He drifted off in a conceding manner before continuing, "I haven't spent much time with a physical form so it's not nearly as much effort on my part."

That did nothing to help Hope's nerves, that was for sure and she pressed her book against her chest as if to shield her in some way from him and that didn't escape his notice.

"But no," he informed her wryly, "I haven't been watching you; I have other things to do with my time."

"You're dead," Hope pointed out, bluntly and just slightly without tact.

Salazar arched an eyebrow before a laugh escaped his lips, deep and echoing loudly in the early morning silence that was only broken by the twittering of birds high up in the trees. "Yes, it does seem that way, doesn't it?" he hummed in agreement.

Hope's shoulders sagged in exasperation that she almost missed how he moved forward carefully until he was standing in front of her, raising a hand to tap a few fingers lightly against the old leather-bounder book she still had clutched in her tight grip.

"I see you have a deep interest in the Ancient Arts," he mentioned and Hope couldn't help but think he just wanted to drift away from the previous conversation concerning what he did as a spectre.

And Hope scrutinized him still. Perhaps she'd gotten far too used to the pictures that portrayed him as a bitter old man with a long and thin beard that it made it harder to equate this younger version with the man that was made into something terrifying by the majority of Hogwarts. But there was something softer about him, like the image she'd seen of him with the other Founders, so young and full of ambition .

They were remarkably similar in that aspect, she noticed.

"Earth Magick, mostly," Hope acquiesced, considering taking a step back but changing her mind at the last second in favour of shifting her weight from one foot to the next. "But yes."

"That's good," Salazar's lips curled as she loosened her grip on the book at hand it back to him once more. "So few choose to learn them, but, then again, few are healthy to learn."

"You mean some drive you mad?" Hope countered, thinking of the account of Adrian Slytherin's dead and how it had come about.

"Yes, that," Salazar agreed, eyes still focused downwards, flicking the book open to the first page and tracing over his wife's signature with a light smile. "Of course, there are many kinds ancient magicks that the world has forgotten, and this book?" He tapped on it again for emphasis. "It barely scratches the surfaces. It's only the first in a series."

"Where's the rest?" Hope asked, flummoxed.

"I think I've quite forgotten," Salazar said, his smile turning a bit embarrassed, "I'm only a spectre, after all, only what I deemed important is what remains jangling about in this dusty old head of mine."

Hope arched an eyebrow despite how disappointed she couldn't help but feel. "Are you _offering_ to teach me the Ancient Arts?" she probed, eyes lightening to hazel.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" he mused thoughtfully, smiling widely. "Do you want to learn?"

"Absolutely," Hope said without a second thought.

* * *

"Did she say where she was going?"

"Just that she was going flying," Daphne replied with a shrug, spooning some Sheppard's pie onto her plate. She was already earning a few glances because she was the only Slytherin at the table, but Daphne didn't deign any of those looks with a response.

Hermione pursed her lips, a bit anxious, playing with her goblet of pumpkin juice, only to look up in relief a moment later when a familiar form appeared at the Great Hall doors, taking a few steps towards the Slytherin table only to turn towards the Gryffindor table to find Daphne and Hermione sitting there, not too far from where the Weasley twins were positioned.

The Gryffindor brunette opened her mouth to call her name when Hope pressed a finger to her lips, eyes glinting malevolently as she crept forward towards the boys were, putting her head in the space between theirs and uttering a sharp _"Boo!"_

It was amusing how both pranksters yelped and twisted around, making their friends laugh, but reducing Daphne to howls and Hermione to hiding her giggles behind her hand.

" _You!_ Potter!"

Hope held up her hands in surrender while Fred jabbed his finger towards her aggressively. "A little jumpy, Weasley?" Hope asked lightly while George pressed a hand to his forehead.

"For Merlin's sake, woman!" George gasped. "Some of us have hearts that need to function!"

"Oh, Weasley," Hope said slyly, looping an arm around his neck that could have looked like a strangle-hold from a certain angle, and that was probably the reason George froze, "are you claiming I don't have a heart?"

"No," George back-pedalled. "You just don't seem to have any regard for mine."

Hope laughed and stepped back, moving towards her friends, plopping herself down beside Hermione, and now that she was close enough to them, they could see things that weren't noticeable at a distance.

There was a smudge of ash on her cheek and the tips of her thumb and forefinger of her left hand were slightly burned.

Hermione's eyebrow furrowed. "Have you been playing with fire?" she asked, taking note of the differences.

"Something like that," Hope said, pulling a plate towards her and loading it with the very same Sheppard's Pie.

"Where'd you go?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Well, there's this little island out on the sea, which I didn't really realize was there until I found it and then I thought _'this is a great place to practice Earth Magick'_ ," Hope said and Daphne's eyebrows rose high on her forehead and Hermione choked on her food.

"You were practicing Earth Magick? What if something went wrong?" Hermione's brown eyes were big and concerned. The thing about being Hope Potter's friend was that you learned that Hope did what she wanted concerning ancient branches of magic, especially Earth Magick –she was head over heels in love with Earth Magick and she'd barely started learning it– and the best thing to do was make sure she didn't damage herself too much.

"I had help," Hope said brightly.

"Who?" Daphne asked with suspicion and Hermione with surprise; Earth Magick wasn't exactly a commonly practiced art.

"Salazar Slytherin." Hope's eyes gleamed.

There was a moment of silence while both Hermione and Daphne stared at her, neither comprehending a word she was saying.

"Er, _what?"_ Hermione stuttered.

"You haven't learned Necromancy in the past hour, have you?" Daphne questioned dubiously. "Because that would be _really_ impressive."

Hope glowered. "Don't be _ridiculous_ , he's got a spectre wandering around."

" _Ooh!"_ An excited glint took over Hermione's eyes at that, and she leaned forward with interest. "A _real_ spectre? There haven't been any recorded sightings in the past hundred years!"

"I have no idea what either of you are talking about…which isn't really normal for me…" Daphne said looking from one girl to the other.

"They're like ghosts that can maintain solid form from time to time," Hermione explained, her eyes still wide and on Hope. "It's _really_ Salazar Slytherin?"

"More like fifteen year old Salazar Slytherin with old Salazar Slytherin's experience," Hope waved a hand carelessly. "And his wife could use Earth Magick, which is _unbelievably amazing."_ She was practically moaning at the prospect of all that she could learn from him.

"You're an idiot," Daphne said.

"Or obsessed," Hermione offered, taking another drink of her juice. "How did you end up burning yourself?"

"Earth Magick is very hands on and I was trying to put out some candles that were being very uncooperative," Hope said airily.

"Something wrong with blowing out candles?" Daphne asked wryly.

"You have a candle in there?" Hermione demanded dubiously, jabbing a finger at the bag sitting beside Hope on the bench.

"There's this thing about how Earth Magick finds power in everything you do and everything you're around," Hope said, pulling out a remarkably thick candle deep purple in colour and setting it on the table with an audible thunk. "Early beliefs were that blowing out a candle is actually offensive to the gods, and it's kind of wasteful because you're using magical energy to blow out a simple candle instead of using wet fingertips or some kind of snuffer…there's a whole page on it."

"On _candles?"_ Daphne was dubious.

"Yeah." Hope reached into her bag to pull out the leather-bound book, flicking a few pages in until she held a candle-illustrated page to Daphne and Hermione leaned forward to read across the table, skimming the page's contents.

"There are spells that require a candle?" Hermione asked.

"Not ones for beginners, but there was this one simple spell that Salazar had me try to light a candle with just my finger." Hope held up one slightly burned finger proudly.

"You literally did a spell months ago that was like holding a ball of fire, Hope," Daphne said dryly.

To which Hope replied something rather unsavoury in Greek that made the blonde laugh and Hermione roll her eyes.

* * *

The prank was a thing of brilliance, if Hope had to say so herself, and the inspiration had come from Hermione, so Hope got the feeling that she and Daphne were rubbing off on her.

A wind-up duck that had been an old toy that Hermione hadn't touched in years had somehow found its way into her trunk. The item itself was fascinating to Daphne, who'd never seen one before, but Hope didn't find it too interesting, though she'd never really played with those kind of toys when she was younger, if she'd had any at all.

"I thought maybe you'd use it for some kind of prank," Hermione had suggested while Daphne twisted the knob to make the duck's little feet move. "Maybe a noisemaker or something like that?"

"Hermione, you are _brilliant,"_ Daphne had said and Hermione had flushed with pleasure.

And really it was, because they'd stretched the stalemate of their instigated prank war with Fred and George out almost a whole week more and Hope didn't think she'd seen the twins quite so antsy.

History of Magic class was when the chaos truly began.

Hope, being the one sitting on the end of the table that day that was the closest to where the Weasley twins were, being two rows in front of them, was the one designated to unleash the prank on them.

Personally, Hope didn't mind, she loved one-upping the twins and pranks were definitely her weapon of choice. So while Professor Binns was endlessly droning on about Goblin wars, Hope was winding the adapted duck's knob as far as it could go, glancing every so often towards where the twins were sitting with Lee Jordan. Thankfully, all three were nearly asleep, which was perfect for Hope, Hermione, and Daphne because it would make the prank all the more startling.

Hope smirked to herself, bending closer to the table little by little so as not to arouse suspicion, but that wasn't too difficult when most of the class was already asleep.

She placed the duck on the ground and it barely squeaked as it made its way across the floor until it came to a stop right beside Fred Weasley and there was an ominous moment of silence.

Then there was a sudden loud blaring sound similar to a loud horn and everyone who'd been falling asleep or had fallen asleep jerked awake startled, becoming even more so when the little duck emitted a large cloud of black smoke that was actually an unintended side-effect that Hope, Hermione, and Daphne weren't really sure what to do with.

Fred had actually fallen out of his seat, Lee's head collided painfully against the wall, and George yelped. Hope wished she had taken a picture because it was so _beautiful_ to see.

Daphne had to bury her head in her arms to silence her laughter, Hermione was much better composed, but she was still pink in the face from trying not laugh, while Hope was openly smirking.

It only took a few minutes for things to calm down, but Professor Binns hardly seemed to notice, though, given the things that happened under his nose, that wasn't all that surprising.

The twins were gazing at the three in outrage and Hope's smirk widened as she focused her attention downwards on the passage in the book that Professor Binns, feigning interest in the lesson.

* * *

"Er, this is for you," Hermione said when the lesson was over, holding out the chess piece to twins and George took it from her a bit grudgingly.

"I thought the pranks were more of your friends' thing," Fred remarked, scrutinizing their fellow Gryffindor and Hermione gave a slight shrug.

"Well, Hope and Daphne have this way of getting under your skin." She smiled. "And pranks can be interesting when they're, you know, _elaborate."_

George arched an eyebrow. Hermione was the best in their year; no one would believe that she was helping with pranks, but it did take a certain level of skill in order to create something like what they had used during class.

"Going to tell us how you made this one?" he asked, holding the spent wind-up duck gently in his hand, and Hermione took it gingerly, wary of it falling apart in her grasp.

"I don't think so," she said with a smile before turning and leaving them to rejoin her friends.

* * *

Letters became commonplace for Hope. If she needed to know something or talk to Remus right then, of course, she could use her mirror, but Hope preferred letters. And letters passed back and forth from Hope and Remus and from Hope and the Blackwoods.

In the weeks following Hope's initial conversation with Thalia, Hope had found herself with a number of letters from the Blackwoods with introductions from the two children that were her cousins as much, if not more, as Dudley had been.

But Hope found she liked the Blackwoods far better than the Dursleys. The younger one, Agathe – _Aggie,_ she'd insisted in one of the letters– was in her fifth year of schooling at Athene Academy, despite her young age, because that was the reason Athene Academy was so controversial, and she had a love for Ancient Runes and was planning on being a Rune Analyst once she graduated. She was also, apparently, very skilled with the bow and loved the application of Earth Magick so much that she was insisting that Hope find a way to copy Morea Avis' book so she could read up on it.

Galen, on the other hand, was going to be an Auror when he graduated. The first few letters he'd appeared to reserve his judgment on her, which Hope could understand, she wasn't someone they knew, after all, but after a few more letters, he seemed consider her to be a bit more trustworthy. She'd learned that he had a serious girlfriend named Dianthe who was already out of school, working as a Potioneer. In contrast with his sister, he was skilled in the use of a sword and Hope was starting to wish Hogwarts had extracurriculars like that.

She'd learned that when Galen and Agathe were younger, their father had vanished, just up and walked out on them. She'd learned that neither could imagine living somewhere other than Greece. She'd learned that Galen had postponed his schooling for two years to intern at the Greek Isles' Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Auror division because he wanted to skip the training that was required after completion of schooling. She'd learned that Thalia was a veteran of a war that had cost her her sister and she hadn't gone back to the Aurors until both her children were old enough to not need her to be around constantly.

The Blackwoods were very interesting at the least and Hope was looking forward to meeting her other cousins officially.

* * *

Fred didn't think he'd honestly seen Hope good to honest mad, generally the most he'd seen her was irritated or aggravated, and usually towards members of her own house, but that was not the case on October 31. He came down the main staircase a few minutes earlier than George to see Hope with a glare on her face wearing a black dress with dark tights and a cloak looped over her arms.

She looked ready to attend a funeral.

" _Excuse me?"_ she snarled, eyes flashed a deep, dark red as she glared venomously at Marcus Flint. "I should _celebrate_ the day my parents were _murdered?_ Are you _completely mental?"_

Flint grinned malevolently before making his way into the Great Hall, leaving Fred to descend the last few steps.

"Creep," Hope muttered under her breath.

"You all right?" Fred asked her and Hope jolted in surprise, clearly not having noticed his approach.

"Fine," she said before giving a shudder, "I just really _hate_ Halloween."

"House-mates giving you a hard time?" Fred presumed. At least he didn't have to live in the same dormitory as people who clearly thought more of You-Know-Who than the girl that had caused his downfall.

"Well, I've never been anyone's favourite," Hope said stiffly before checking her watch with a sigh. "He's late, he's not usually late."

"My apologies," came a tired voice, "it took longer to pull myself out of bed than usual."

Fred found himself lifting his eyes from Hope to the speaker, a man with grey streaked brown hair and rather prominent scars on his face with a few scratches that were red against his skin, but his pale green eyes glittered as he met Hope's eyes and the girl positively relaxed.

"Remus, I hate Halloween," Hope informed the man sullenly, pulling her cloak around her shoulders.

"As do I," the man, Remus, said, "ready to go to Godric's Hollow?"

"We need flowers," Hope pointed out as she looped her arm through his and looked back to Fred. "See you around, Weasley."

* * *

"Greengrass, where's Potter?" Professor Snape asked once he'd gotten through the roll call.

Daphne paused in grabbing her potion's book and Hermione's eyes flicked towards her. "Sir?"

"Potter," her name curled oddly off his tongue, "is she sick?"

Daphne's lips thinned into a line. "I certainly would be if someone told me I should be celebrating my parents' murder."

There was a flash of something in his eyes, but Daphne couldn't make out what it quite was.

"Greengrass," he said shortly, "where exactly is your housemate?"

"Probably in Godric's Hollow cemetery, sir," Daphne said without blinking and Hermione grimaced, glad she hadn't been called on for an explanation, because she'd probably been docked points for saying the same thing.

Hope did exactly nothing on Halloween and she really hated that holiday, if you could call it that. Hermione wasn't surprised she'd had Remus pick her up and take her away for the day.

* * *

The graveyard had been cold and Hope and Remus hadn't ended up staying long, mostly because there was a lot of foot traffic in Godric's Hallow because of what had happened that night years ago, but those types of people tended to stick to where Hope's parents' house was left in its ruined state.

But even then there weren't many people memorializing Hope's parents, like they'd virtually forgotten the lives that had been paid for their freedom.

Hope's fingers rubbed circles into her brow, her head throbbing as she sat on the end of the couch before the fire, staring into the flames as she willed her headache away.

"Mistress?" came Mindy's soft voice as she set down the tray of tea and biscuits on the table beside the couch, her big eyes concerned. "Would Mistress like some tea?"

"Does it have a headache potion in it?" Hope said blandly.

"Yes," Mindy said simply and Hope's lips curled slightly.

"All right, then," she said, taking the teacup of Jasmine tea, shaking her head towards the biscuit tin that her house-elf offered her. "No thank you, I'm not hungry."

"Mistress must eat something," Mindy insisted, "Mistress hasn't eaten all day!"

"I'm _not hungry,"_ Hope said again, this time with a bit more emphasis and Mindy kept her eyes level with Hope's before relenting with a sigh and taking the tray away.

Hope sipped her tea and it only took a few moments to ease her headache.

"So, how's school going?" Remus asked as he dropped into the armchair close to the fire.

Hope thought it was a poor choice of small talk, seeing as she told him a great deal about what was happening at school, but she didn't point that out. "It's all right," she said. "Don't like Potions, don't like Defense Against the Dark Arts, I've got top marks in Ancient Runes, oh, and a spectre is teaching me how to use Earth Magick."

Remus' brow furrowed. He had so many questions, but for now he'd just have to settle for one. "A spectre?" he remarked dubiously.

"Salazar Slytherin's," Hope agreed, taking another sip of her tea, appearing not to notice the befuddled expression warping Remus' scarred face.

"You're having lessons with a long-dead Hogwarts Founder?" he finally managed to say after forcing his tongue to function.

"It's very interesting," Hope hummed, taking another sip of her tea. "What about you? The full moon was a few days ago…why didn't you have Mindy fix up your injuries?"

She could see bruises and cuts without much difficulty, it wasn't as though he was hiding them. And she frowned further when he gave her a smile.

"You need to stop worrying about me, Hope," Remus said.

"Worrying is a sign of love," Hope said wryly, setting her finished teacup on its saucer on the table beside the couch.

It was times like these that Remus couldn't tell who she was more like: her mother or her father. James had always been rather blunt about Remus taking care of himself, but worrying was always something that was a bit more of Lily's thing.

"I miss the manor," Hope sighed after a long silence, looking around the sitting room forlornly. "Hogwarts is… _cold."_

"You sleep in the dungeons."

"You know what I mean," Hope muttered, curling her legs up onto the couch and pulling a stray book towards her that she hadn't managed to put away before she'd left, and the rest of the day was spent in a sombre sort of silence.

* * *

Hermione was not having a great day. It was weird not having Hope around, but her absence was quickly capitalized on. The members of Slytherin house that had called her names on the first day had backed off considerably after Daphne and Hope had laid into them and it didn't take much for Hermione to tell that most of the Slytherins had only backed off because it was Hope.

And Hermione didn't have thick skin, at least, not like Hope did. There were only so many hissed _"Mudblood!"_ s she could take, people telling her to go back where she came from. Draco Malfoy had a particular distaste for her, but Marcus Flint was worse and Hermione fled after their paths crossed in the hallway.

"I'll curse him for you," Daphne offered in the stall next to Hermione's in the girl's lavatory and Hermione laughed wetly.

Daphne was missing the Halloween feast by staying with her, but her friend didn't appear to care.

"I know," Hermione said, wiping her eyes, "but maybe he's right."

"No, he's not," Daphne said and Hermione could practically see her scowl. "He's just jealous because you're smart and clever and he's dumber than a troll."

Hermione smiled and then her stomach gave an ominous growl and that made Daphne laugh. "Let's go to the feast," she suggested, "we'll even sit at the Gryffindor table, okay?"

"All right," Hermione said, pulling herself upright, wiping the last traces of her tears before unlatching her stall and that was when she realized something rather startling; she and Daphne weren't alone.

It was greater than twelve feet with a bulging belly and large lopsided ears, making vague and deep grunts, and holding a club loosely in one hand.

Hermione swallowed and Daphne let out a squeaked _"Oh"_ beside her. Hermione had never seen a troll before, but if she was a betting girl, she'd think that the creature standing before them had to be a troll.

Both girls darted out of their stalls to the opposite wall as it lifted its cumbersome club above its head and swung it through the stalls, being too slow to follow them from the stalls to where they cowering in the corner, neither knowing any spells powerful enough to subdue a troll.

Hermione screamed and Daphne yelped as wood ripped from the stalls collided with them.

" _What the Hades?"_ demanded a voice and Hermione's eyes flashed to the figure gaping in the doorway at the large troll. Hope was still wearing her coat and dress, but her hair was a dark red and eyes a bright hazel, a contrast from how she'd last appeared to them.

"Tell me you've got some kind of shielding spell that you memorized from that Earth Magick book or an offensive something!" Daphne yelled, confusing the troll as it didn't know what way to stumble. _"Because I don't!"_

The Shielding Charm was fairly advanced and offensive magic wasn't exactly something their classes focused on.

Hope ran from her spot to collide with Hermione and Daphne who both clutched her and never had Hermione wished more that Hope had an Earth Magick spell.

"I come back and you two are battling a troll," Hope grumbled, "exactly how much have I missed?"

" _Hope!"_ Both girls snapped as the club rose into the air once more.

 ** _"Aspída!"_**  Green eyes glowed and hands outstretched and the next thing Hermione and Daphne knew, a blue dome had surrounded them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another chapter done. There wasn't a lot in this chapter to tie into canon, but that's good anyways, because this fic isn't designed to be all that similar to canon.
> 
> Salazar Slytherin is my new favorite and I will admit that he'll be sticking around for longer than he did in Looking Beyond, which means a lot of good moments between him and Hope to look forward to.
> 
> Next chapter Hope might officially meet the Blackwood siblings, but don't quote me on that.
> 
> The thing with the candles is actually based on something I read that had to do with Wicca.
> 
> I might be able to get one more chapter out before school starts, but we'll see how that goes too, because I've got at least three other fics to update.


	13. A Hidden Foe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of love for Salazar and Hope's Earth Magick last chapter, don't worry, Salazar will be around for awhile longer, and there's going to be a lot of more to be seen of the earth magick and its limitations will be shown in this chapter.
> 
> There is no schedule in particular for this fic, especially since I'm knee deep into nursing school, so updates only happen when I have time to write.
> 
> It seems now like I will be writing one chapter to represent each month in the fic, so there are at least seven more chapters in book one…if my planning is correct, but don't take that estimate for granted.

It was a stupid idea, a very stupid idea, and Hope should have definitely known better. The section on magical defence in her Earth Magick book had several warnings attached to it, but the shielding was the most powerful and in the split second when the troll's club came crashing down on them, it was the only one Hope could remember.

She extended her hands as the wavering blue dome appeared over them, rippling as the club beat down on it from above.

Hermione gave a terrified squeak on one side of her and Daphne tightened her grip on Hope's cloak.

It was like fire was licking at her skin, burning and _burning,_ like her lungs were filled with ash. Hope gave a hacking cough that speckled the broken tiles of the floor with blood.

The shield was so opaque that it was a bit difficult to see beyond it, and what things they could see were a bit blurry. But they could still feel it when the troll fell to the ground, because the ground shook underneath their feet.

It was a lucky thing that the troll had fallen when it had, because the shield spell had drained Hope almost entirely of her energy; no wonder it had been listed under 'advanced magic'. The blue dome surrounding them dropped so suddenly that it startled Hermione and Daphne.

Hope's stomach roiled and she ducked backwards in order to hack up what little she had consumed that day.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a furious voice as Hope wiped her mouth to turn and see several professors standing in the carnage.

Professor McGonagall was stunned beyond belief, looking from the girls to the troll, and none of the three could tell which one had knocked out the troll or with what, Professor McGonagall, Quirrell, or Snape.

Snape's eyes had flitted towards the deeply cracked indents that Hope's shield had left behind with a keen interest, but Hope was too distracted by her woozy feeling, swaying dangerously on her feet before both her friends managed to steady her.

"What on _earth_ were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall continued. "You're lucky you weren't _killed!_ Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

"I was in Wales most of the day," Hope said blandly, her throat burning, "I only just got back." Then she shut her mouth abruptly, trying to keep down another wave of nausea.

"I was –I was—" Hermione's words failed in the presence of her fearsome Head of House and she didn't know quite how to explain herself.

"We were in here," Daphne said for her, gesturing to Hermione, speaking for her, "we'd been here awhile when the troll showed up."

Snape scrutinized the pair. "And why would the pair of you be in the lavatory when you could be at the Halloween feast?"

Shame flushed Hermione's face and Hope frowned in confusion.

"We weren't hungry," Daphne said flatly, "and Hermione wasn't feeling very well, so I hung out with her in here, and that's when we saw the troll. Hope showed up pretty soon after that, and since none of us know any offensive magic, she used a shielding spell."

There was something off about that statement, and it was something a bit clear to Professor McGonagall that there was something they weren't telling, such as what kind of shielding spell was powerful enough to leave cracks in the floor.

Professor McGonagall considered the three of them, all white-faced and covered in debris (with Hope being the one with the least amount of damage done to her person), and with Hope positively translucent, a smear of blood across her lips that must have come from her previous coughing or vomiting.

She drew herself up to her full height. "Very well," she said. "Miss Potter, five points to Slytherin for your quick thinking. All three of you were very lucky tonight. I believe it would be wise, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass for you to take your friend up to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to look over."

While she had been speaking, Daphne had found her eyes drifting towards where Snape was standing with a rip in his pant leg with a bloodied bite clearly there. Blue eyes shifted upwards and Snape scowled before sweeping his robes around himself in order to hide the bite from view.

Daphne's brow furrowed as she helped Hermione manoeuvre Hope through the carnage, stepping past the professors with Quirrell being very careful about making sure his skin didn't come into contact with Hope's, but none of the children appeared to notice.

"Where's Michael?" Hope hummed, her eyes mostly shut as her head lolled forward. "He can carry me, you know."

"Yeah, Hope, we know," Hermione muttered as they helped drag their friend in the general direction of the staircase that led up towards the hospital wing. "But I haven't seen any suits of ar—"

"Milady?"

Hermione yelped and Daphne jumped but Hope was a bit too out of it to be startled by the sudden appearance of the suit of armour bearing the Slytherin seal.

"Milady you seem quite ill," Michael said while Hermione tried to gather her wits and Daphne tried to calm her racing heart.

"I need to be carried to the hospital wing, Michael," Hope said blinking owlishly in his direction.

Daphne had to wonder what the owner of the armour's face would have looked like if he still had it, but the armour stooped without reply to hook an arm under her legs and at her back.

"Want us to come with you?" Daphne asked her, still eyeing the suit of armour suspiciously, but Hope shook her head as she was carried away.

"Was it just me or was she kind of… _sluggish?"_ Hermione muttered to Daphne.

* * *

Hope was shuffling through her tarot cards as she sat propped up on several pillows in the hospital wing three days later.

"You didn't need to come, I'm fine," she pressed as she threw a glance towards the man sitting at her bedside.

"You have serious blood poisoning from unstable magic use," Remus responded, unimpressed as Hope slipped one card up onto the bed table. _The Star, healing of old wounds, inspiration, a mental and physical broadening of horizons, hope and renewal._

Hope arched an eyebrow at the card's meaning before looking over to Remus once more. "It was just a stupid mistake, and I'll be fine in a few days, Madam Pomfrey said so."

"You wouldn't be in here if you hadn't used a very dangerous Earth Magick spell," Remus pointed out, crossing his arms as Hope flipped a second card: _Ace of Pentacles, appreciation of the good things in life, physical well being, the essence of the Element of Earth._

"I screwed up," Hope agreed, "but that was because I tried a spell that was way out of my league; it was the only one I could remember, personally, I'll take a few days in the hospital wing to being brained by a club."

Exasperation was clear on his face and when he sighed.

Hope turned her head towards him and smiled.

"Sometimes you really remind me of your father," he said fondly, reaching a hand out to cup one cheek, one warm cheek whose owner was alive under his hand.

"Does that make you sad?" Hope asked, leaning into the touch.

"Not anymore," he said and Hope believed him.

Then there was the echoing sound of annoyed voices debating in the hallways.

"You _know_ that's not the proper use of a silver knife!" Hermione's voice was rather simple to make out, but Daphne's snorted response wasn't.

"If it gets the job done," laughed Fred –or was it George? It was hard to tell when their voices were slightly muffled and she couldn't see who was speaking.

Four people entered into the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey threw a warning glance towards the grouping.

"Hi, Remus," Hermione and Daphne chorused as one before they came around to the opposite side of Hope's bed, sitting on the bed there as there weren't any other seats.

"You're missing a lot of class," Hermione added as she handed over Hope's planner and she thumbed through it with a frown.

"Madam Pomfrey isn't allowing me to even move from this bed, or else she's putting me in St. Mungo's," Hope said dryly.

"Lesser of two evils," George laughed.

"That's debatable," Hope grumbled. Her whole body was a mass of tingly sensations. Madam Pomfrey had her drinking potions almost every hour in order to break down the magic toxicity in her blood. She hadn't seen so much blood poisoning –the result of powerful spells without proper training, so it was rather common, just not to the same level as Hope– in one person from one spell in a long time. The tingling sensation was stronger in her legs and was vaguely uncomfortable if she even slightly moved.

She tapped a finger against Remus' knee, nodding towards the identical twins that were rather new to him. "That's Fred and George Weasley, by the way."

Remus arched an eyebrow. "The ones you're currently in a prank war with?"

"Yeah, that'd be them," Daphne snorted. "They're currently losing."

" _Oi!"_ Fred complained. "We are still planning our retaliation!"

"Mm-hm," Hope hummed. _"Sure."_ Hermione stifled her giggles behind her hand.

"Well, I glad you're making friends," Remus said, a smile curving along his lips and Hope wrinkled her nose for good measure.

"Have to start somewhere," Hope said disparagingly. "The whole of Slytherin House thinks I'm scum."

Fred and George bobbed their heads in agreement, but Daphne threw Hope an outraged look.

" _I_ don't think you're scum."

"We're not counting you," Hope retorted with a grin that had her eyes twinkling.

"I'm going to chalk that up to potions messing with your brain," Daphne decided as Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office to bring a smoking cup of thick potion over to the tray over Hope's bed.

"Keep your voices down," the matron warned as Hope eyed the potion in an unappetizing manner.

"There's no one else here," George pointed out only to quail at the sight of her stern glare before she turned around and returned back to the office, with a call behind her of: "That potion better be drunk the next time I leave my office, Miss Potter."

Hope looked at potion sullenly. "This is making me actually miss Snape."

"I didn't think that was actually possible." Hermione was grinning and Fred and George didn't even bother to hide their amusement.

Hope muttered something Greek and unsavoury under her breath and Remus wasn't impressed.

"Is that something you should be saying in polite company?" he asked.

"Well, company's a bit informal right now," Hope said decisively before pinching her nose and tipping the potion down her throat. She released her nose after she swallowed, coughing and gasping as it burned all the way down.

"Disgusting," she rasped, gagging. "Pepper-Up Potion tastes better than this."

"What a surprise," Remus said dryly, causing the four around them to erupt into laughter.

"I hate you," Hope decided.

"That does tend to happen."

"That's Remus Lupin, in case it slipped their minds," Daphne added to the boys, "he's the one in charge of Hope on holidays."

"No one's in charge of me!" Hope countered with affront. _"I'm_ in charge of me!"

"Of course, Hope," Remus said absently.

"I'm the one in the hospital wing, so why do I feel like I'm the one being attacked?" Hope's tone had made a turn toward petulant, and she crossed her arms, looking away from them.

"I think I'll leave you to your friends," Remus said, slightly amused by her childish response as he stood and leaned down to press a kiss to her temple.

"Be careful with your magic," he warned.

"I promise," Hope said, rolling her eyes, sparing him a smile. "Tell Mindy I said hi."

Remus laughed before pulling his cloak over his shoulders and making his way out of the room with a nod towards the boys and a smile to the girls.

"You know the school thinks you're in here because the troll beat you up," Fred said, plopping himself down into the vacated seat.

Hope arched an eyebrow. "This school has a problem with rumours."

Well, she wasn't wrong.

Hope flipped the next card over.

_Death, the beginning of a new life, transformation and change._

* * *

"We should really make our own map," Daphne decided early into November, only the day Hope had been officially cleared to leave the hospital wing.

"Remus says there's a lot of secret passageways," Hope said helpfully as Hermione looked over Remus' step-by-step instructions concerning how to make a map of Hogwarts. "Salazar says the same."

Hermione lifted her eyes from the parchment to frown at them. "Does he only show up when we're not around?"

Hermione and Daphne hadn't actually seen the Slytherin founder, but they had seen Hope bloom a Dittany plant after it had barely been planted. Earth Magick at its most literal; Hope had been rather proud until Daphne pointed out that most of the leaves had turned yellow.

"We are around a lot," Daphne pointed out for good measure, sitting closest to the fire in Morea's Room, the firelight casting a warm glow across her face.

"Early mornings sometimes," Hope shrugged, unconcerned. "He shows up when he shows up. We haven't done a lot of practical stuff lately, just theory, you know, how to use the magic properly. He's trying to get me to take it slow."

" _I can understand your fascination with this magick," Salazar had said earlier that week, "but you must keep in mind that this type of magick you're toying with, it has the potential to be very dangerous. There's a reason it's been considered a Dark Art for so long, because its practitioners often misuse it."_

" _But can't all magic be dangerous?" Hope pointed out._

" _Depending on the intent of the caster, yes," Salazar agreed, a slight grimace marring his face. "But Earth Magick is a different kind of magic than the ones you're thinking of. Earth Magick's power comes from the self and the surroundings of the caster." He twisted the silver ring around his finger that Morea had shared when she was alive. "Morea was always at her strongest within the elements, particularly earth, and on the full moon."_

" _Why the full moon?" Hope's brow furrowed in confusion._

" _Morea was very skilled in both offensive and defensive attacks, though she preferred defensive as we grew older," Salazar said, his eyes growing distant briefly before he jerked himself back to reality, "spells can have differing effects under the differing phases of the moon. The full moon was one that coincided with protection."_

"He wasn't pleased about me using that shield against the troll," Hope added, "that's probably most of why we're doing more theory now."

Daphne scratched out a sentence on her essay concerning the Shrinking Solution that Snape had assigned. Hope was only halfway through hers, though Hermione had long since completed it.

"Maybe he doesn't like showing up because Hermione's around and he doesn't like Muggle-borns," Daphne theorized out loud and both Hope and Hermione looked at her. _"What?_ It's not like Slytherin isn't known for their prejudice against Muggles."

Hermione chewed on her lip, looking to Hope as the frown deepened on her lips. "You know the witch trials didn't really start until the fifteenth century," Hope said suddenly, "but several witches and wizards were killed in the centuries before then by Muggles."

Daphne and Hermione shared a glance of surprise.

"Salazar's parents and younger brother were killed by Muggles who burned them at the stake for their use of witchcraft," Hope continued. "He only survived because he had been out playing in the field at the time and had hidden in the tall grass when it happened."

"That's _awful,"_ Hermione gasped, horrified.

"People always fear what they do not understand," Hope agreed sagely, though the words sounded like someone else's rather than her own, "that's what Grandfather says."

"Yeah, well, he's Death, isn't he?" Daphne grumbled. "I bet he's seen a lot of that since he came into being."

"Probably."

"So, Salazar Slytherin was worried about what would happen if Muggle-borns were allowed to go to school here?" Hermione asked curiously. "Or was it just because of what happened to his family?"

"I'm not really sure," Hope reached over to her bag where it was resting on the floor, pulling out the thin journal embossed with the Slytherin family crest. "Most of what's in here is stuff that happened before Hogwarts was completed, back when he and Godric were duelling buddies, when he was trying to win Morea's hand, then there's nothing for a few years until his daughter and son are born, Nelda and Adrian, and then nothing again until Nelda's of age, running off to captain _the Siren_ …"

" _The Siren?"_ Daphne asked dubiously. "What's that?"

"Oh, it's a ship," Hope said, unconcerned, "built from the Forest of Morea around the Slytherin Castle, a place that he called Pithos."

"A _ship?"_ Hermione repeated. "Like a pirate ship?"

"Pretty much," Hope grinned. "That'd be cool to see, don't you think?"

"You're so _weird,"_ Daphne snorted.

Only Hope would be filled with the desire to rediscover a long-since-disappeared pirate ship that once belonged to her ancestor.

And just like that they'd forgotten about the core question concerning Salazar's views of Muggle-borns.

* * *

Hope had a detention that lasted for three hours for skiving off classes on Halloween, something that annoyed her, but if she'd just told Snape (which was unlikely) or one of the other professors, then she wouldn't be in this situation.

Hope was a bit sour about it, but she still showed up at the right time at the greenhouses. She actually liked the greenhouses, but a lot of the plants they were learning about weren't really much of interest to her. The potions she'd read about in her book on Earth Magick were more herbal in nature than outrightly magical, and that had been by design. Growing a plant with magic was all that was needed in order to use it in spells.

"Hello?" she called cautiously as she entered Greenhouse Two, but there wasn't anyone inside it.

A soft huff left her lips as she stepped carefully inside, dropping her bag close to the door as moved to look around at the various plants. She'd never been in Greenhouse Two, as it was mostly kept for first and second years; Hope, Hermione, and Daphne spent more time in Greenhouse Three as third years.

She trailed through the greenhouse with interest. The plants here didn't seem to be all that dangerous, and Hope did recognize a few of them.

The Aconite's petals were deep blue and flourishing where they'd been potted. Hope reached out to brush her fingers against those petals, only to jerk back at Professor Sprout's kindly voice.

"Ah," the stout witch remarked, "I see you've already arrived."

She twisted around to see the Herbology professor with a smudge of dirt on her cheek and a smile that made her eyes glitter.

"I hope you don't mind getting your hands dirty, Miss Potter."

"I don't mind," Hope assured her before glancing around the greenhouse with a bit of curiosity, "but, er, what exactly am I doing?"

"Repotting some plants for the most part," Professor Sprout said before directing her to take off her dark robes and Hope shrugged them off, bunching them into her bag. "We'll stick with plants least likely to attack you."

She cast a knowing glance towards Hope and Hope couldn't help but feel like her professor had picked up on her distaste towards the more dangerous plants.

Hope rolled up her sleeves and took off her tie to keep it from dragging in the earth and then Professor Sprout set her up in front of a pot of coarse earth with a trowel to break it up.

She dug her trowel in, twisting and adding a bit of water to moisten and soften it further.

For the most part, they worked in silence, and honestly Hope didn't have a problem with that. She didn't even realize how long they'd been going before Professor Sprout began to show her proper repotting.

"Now you don't want to have too many plants in a pot of this size," Professor Sprout warned her, "or the plants' roots won't have enough room to spread."

Hope nodded her head in understanding. "Can these plants only grow in greenhouses?" she asked.

"Oh, _no!"_ Professor Sprout laughed. "You can grow them indoors or outdoors just as long as you remember that some plants can't handle anything less than a controlled environment."

"Which is why you keep them in a greenhouse," Hope presumed and Professor Sprout clucked her tongue in agreement.

"Have a bit of interest in Herbology outside of the magical sense?" the older witch inquired a bit knowingly and Hope turned faintly pink.

"Well, not entirely outside of the magical sense," Hope admitted, "it's more of a different branch of magic that involves more herbs and spices that are used in potions like the ones we learn about in class."

Professor Sprout hummed in intrigue. "More like Herbalism than Herbology, I'm guessing."

Hope furrowed her brow slightly. "I suppose." She couldn't really contemplate the difference; to her, Herbology was everything and anything that involved plant-life. She didn't really try to differentiate between Earth Magick and everything else. "It's not less magical, but a lot of the herbs aren't usually used in normal potions."

"It sounds interesting," Professor Sprout smiled. "Do you like it?"

"A lot," Hope conceded, "but a lot of people don't…my guardian's worried that the magic is a bit dangerous."

"And what do you think?" Professor Sprout's bushy eyebrows quirked.

Hope pursed her lips as she potted a plant with a lot of vines. "I think a lot of things are dangerous if you try hard enough."

"That is a surprising view," Professor Sprout said, "but not entirely incorrect."

Hope shrugged. "I make a habit of not doing what people expect."

Dumbledore had certainly had an idea about what he'd expected her to be, and, though she didn't want to admit it, so had Remus, the only difference was that Remus was accepting of who she was, even if it was very different than how he remembered James and Lily to be. But that was all right, because Hope was her own person, she was Hope Potter, not just the daughter of James and Lily Potter.

"Good gracious," Professor Sprout said, her words startled a moment later as she checked the watch bound to her wrist. "You've been here an extra hour!"

Hope checked the light beyond the greenhouse, surprised to note that the last of the day's sunlight could barely be seen, setting on the horizon. She'd only been supposed to spend three hours in detention, but it looked rather like it was well over four hours by now. The time had flown; Hope had barely even noticed it...she was dangerously close to curfew now.

"You'd better run along back to your dormitory Miss Potter before you're out of bounds."

So Hope gathered up her things and left quickly; Snape wouldn't be nearly so understanding if he caught her out after hours.

* * *

Hope lay awake late into the night, Morea's dagger in her hand and one of the stones from her family's vault in the other. Bloodstone had many meanings, but it was one of the best mediums for blood runes, so here she was, in the dead of night, carving a protection rune into the surface of the stone while her wand was lit and tucked behind her ear.

Too much stress on the stone would cause it to break in her hand, but all Hope had to do was carve enough into the stone that the symbol was obvious.

Hope blew some stone dust from the stone itself, swiping it off with a hand before lifting up her thumb to press the tip of the dagger against her skin and push in until a bead of blood appeared.

It pricked a bit, but Hope was expecting it, so it wasn't too terrible.

She let the droplets of blood fall into the grooves she'd carved, and a moment later the stone glowed faintly and Hope sucked on her thumb tasting blood as she placed the stone, her wand, and the dagger at her bedside, not noticing how the stone pulsated faintly with red colour before fading.

* * *

The weather grew colder, the air crisper, as they entered November, and Hope was starting to get the feeling that the month was rather unlucky.

Daphne thought it was just Hope that was unlucky.

"Maybe you committed some terrible crimes in your previous?" Daphne contemplated as she and Hermione kept their friend from tripping over a balcony for the third time since November had begun.

"Maybe she's just _clumsy,"_ Hermione, ever rational, retorted rolling her eyes.

"But I'm _not_ this clumsy," Hope insisted, pulling her arms free of her friends in order to round the corner and running head long into George Weasley's chest.

" _Dammit, Weasley!"_

"What?"

She jabbed a finger towards the twin in question, opening her mouth to say something that could've been construed as rather crass, but Daphne and Hermione stalled her by forcing their hands over her mouth.

"Don't mind her," Hermione assured the flummoxed Gryffindor. "She's having a bit of a bad day."

Fred arched a brow at his twin's side, taking note of Hope's glower towards her friends. "Are you lot coming down to see the match?" he asked instead.

The first Quidditch match of the season was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and it would be commencing in a matter of hours, hence why both brothers were wearing their bright red and gold Quidditch robes with their brooms hooked over one shoulder.

Personally, Hope and Daphne would be rooting for Gryffindor since they were still at odds with Slytherin, though, privately both thought that view was unlikely to change unless the house as a whole became less bigoted (but what were the chances of that?).

"That's the plan," Daphne said, before glancing to the side where they were still keeping Hope's mouth firmly shut, "if Hope doesn't trip her way over another balcony."

Hope glared and crossed her arms for emphasis, but gagged as she was, it wasn't quite as impressive as it could've been.

"See you later," Hermione added, dragging Hope and Daphne past them, leaving the pair a bit bemused.

"You ever think they're up to something?" Fred asked George.

"They're always up to something," George snorted before they made their way down.

"Being clumsy is making you really short-tempered," Hermione mentioned when they were on their own, she and Daphne removing their hands from over her mouth.

"I keep telling you that I'm _not clumsy!"_ Hope insisted.

"I'm still going to go with you did something terrible in your past life." Daphne's mind couldn't be changed. "Maybe treason, maybe murder…they seem kind of like your forte."

Hope and Hermione stared at her blankly in incomprehension.

"Well," Hope cleared her throat, "I'm not entirely sure what to do with that assessment."

Hermione would've voiced an opinion as well, if not for the fact that Snape had come into earshot and all three fell abruptly silent as he moved past them, casting an oddly calculating glance towards them and once he passed them, Daphne's eyes trailed after him, focusing on the one leg he was dragging slightly.

"That explains the blood," she mused thoughtfully out loud.

"What blood?" Hermione asked as she and Hope ducked back to look, but they saw no hint of blood even as Snape's form stretched too far away to make out anything remotely like blood.

"He's limping," Daphne pointed out, "and his leg was bloody when he showed up with the other professors to deal with the troll, didn't you notice?"

"I was kind of out of it," Hope pointed out, "and I think Hermione was trying to keep herself from having a panic attack."

"We were attacked by a _troll!"_ Hermione's voice rose in pitch. _"Of course I was panicked!"_

"Yeah, but think about it," Daphne pressed, pulling her friends to a stop, "a troll's a great distraction, all the professors would've come running to deal with the troll—"

"That room!" Hermione said suddenly, her eyes wide. "The one on the third corridor with the three-headed dog!"

"What about it?" Hope asked, remembering Hermione's accidental adventure in the dead of night.

"It was standing on a trap door," Hermione added. "No one would put a dog like that in a school with children if it wasn't there for a purpose."

Daphne's eyes drifted off thoughtfully and Hope's brow furrowed, but neither contested the argument.

* * *

The stands were full of excitement and noise, but Hope had never really been a sports kind of person. Still, she'd never really seen what Quidditch was, so she figured she might as well go and see what all the fuss was about.

Daphne and Hope stood out as green-garbed in a sea of red, but they didn't mind too terribly; the Gryffindors were much more excited than the Slytherins who were more cocky that would win like they had the past seven years.

The fourteen players gathered around in an oval were at the centre of the field, with Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and referee, in the middle.

There was silence throughout the stadium until Madam Hooch brought her whistle to release a sharp blast, tossing the Quaffle up into the air to be snatched immediately by a figure in red.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor –what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"

" _JORDAN!"_

Hope knew she wasn't the only one laughing at Lee Jordan's commentary, even if Professor McGonagall wasn't too pleased. She was sure that the professor was there to monitor the third year, but Lee didn't seem to mind too much; it didn't stop him from commentating how he pleased.

"Sorry, Professor," Lee said, not sounding sorry at all. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve –back to Johnson and– no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle—"

Hope watched with her lip curling in distaste as the Marcus Flint snagged the Quaffle; she really didn't like him.

"Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes –Flint flying like an eagle up there– he's going to sc—"

Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor keeper blocked the shot and Hope cheered with the rest of Gryffindor house.

"—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood," Lee reported gleefully, "and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle –that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – _OUCH–_ that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—"

Hope winced as Katie Bell pitched forward slightly at the force of the hit, but it must not have been too debilitating, because she was flying around within a minute.

"–Quaffle taken by the Slytherins –that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger– sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which–"

Hope laughed with her friends at that, but Lee wasn't wrong; Fred and George were impossible to differentiate in the air.

"—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway," Lee conceded, "and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes –she's really flying– dodges a speeding Bludger—"

The Bludger spun away, rocketing close to the crowd before shooting back into the air, but not before banging against the stands underneath where Hope and her friends were standing and cheering.

"—the goal posts are ahead 149 –come on, now, Angelina– Keeper Bletchley dives –misses– GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

The Gryffindor section burst into cheers not unlike a bomb going off, and though Hope was cheering with the rest of them, she wasn't nearly as enthusiastic, but the dismay from the Slytherins was amusing to hear.

The Gryffindor Seeker, Patricia Stimpson, didn't have much to do, but neither did the Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, though Higgs wasn't known for being particularly bright (it was a wonder he'd lasted as long as he did).

Hope could have sworn that she felt the stands beneath her feet, but she didn't think the previous Bludger had done that much damage.

One of the Weasley twins beat back a Bludger aimed at one of the Chasers, aiming it towards Marcus Flint as best as he could.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee continued, his voice blaring around the stadium. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the –wait a moment– was that the Snitch?"

Something had caused Seeker Higgs and Stimpson to duck into a dive, but Hope didn't have much time to think about it, because the stands beneath her feet buckled and several people screamed as it took the front part of the section down with it. Hope's grip on the rail became painfully tight as her heart raced in her chest, luckily, they didn't drop very far, but that didn't really stop the screams.

"Past life," Daphne muttered, her arms wrapped completely around the rail, her face completely bloodless, with Hermione clenching her arms tightly around her friend's waist.

" _I'm going to kill you,"_ Hope promised, her knuckles white on the bar.

"There seems to have been some kind of collapse in the Gryffindor stands, it looks like the professors are going to investigate…"

Sure, the collapse of the stands where Hope was standing was a bit circumspect, but it was only a moment later when Hope considered the possibility that someone might actually be trying to kill her, because a Bludger appeared above them and shot down.

Someone screamed –several someones, actually–, it might've been Hope, too, but none of them needed to worry, because even though it had implicitly aimed at Hope, when it had come a bit too close for comfort, it collided with an unseen barrier that flared a transparent red, and it bounced away out of the hole it had just come through.

There were angry roars overhead.

"Flint tries his hand at blocking the Gryffindor Seeker, but Stimpson swerves and she's neck-to-neck with Higgs in a dive! Higgs pulls up but – _ouch!"_

The wince was fairly audible.

"Gryffindor Seeker Stimpson gets ploughed! But –wait! Is that the Snitch?"

Cheers erupted above them from the Gryffindor section above them as the group in the broken section several feet below were left in confusion.

"I don't believe it!" Lee cheered. "Seeker Stimpson managed to catch the Snitch before she ploughed into the ground! That's one hundred and forty points to eighty for Gryffindor!"

And sure, Hope was happy for Gryffindor, and especially happy about them wiping the floor with Slytherin, but they were kind of in a precarious situation.

"How about we just skip the next Quidditch match," Hermione muttered.

And Hope and Daphne couldn't help but bob their heads in agreement.

* * *

"I didn't think there'd ever be a day where I'd be struggling to come up with a prank," Fred grumbled at the table in the Gryffindor common room where they were supposed to be writing a Charms essay but were stuck on their retaliation prank against the girls.

"They're actually good at this," George agreed, "which is the problem."

"Maybe you just needed someone to inspire you," Angelina snorted as she flipped through Witch Weekly, her essay already done and only sitting there in order to offer suggestions to theirs while she waited for Alicia to get back to the common room.

They both looked at her funny.

"What? You can't deny it," she said flatly, dark eyes flitting from one boy to the other before pushing back a stray dreadlock with a hand. "We all know you're cooking up ideas for that dream prank shop of yours and you were coming up dry with ideas until they did that prank against you after the whole hair-colour-change incident, and look at you now."

George's brow furrowed. He hadn't really considered that before. Of course, they'd been a bit low on inspiration, but that happened from time to time and it wasn't too concerning. But Hope, Daphne, and Hermione (that last one was still the most surprising of the three; Hermione seemed like too much of a goody two shoes to prank anyone, but she'd surprised them) had gotten their creative juices flowing.

"Maybe we should call a truce?" he suggested and Fred lifted his head from where he'd thumped it against the table.

"What? Why?" he demanded.

"Because they've got a lot of great ideas," George pointed out, "five heads are better than two, you know."

Fred pursed his lips thoughtfully, but he couldn't deny the idea had merit; it was better to be partners than adversaries. And all of the girls' ideas were pretty great, barring the fact that they were a bit unwilling to reveal their secrets.

"All right, fine," Fred sighed, "it might be a good idea to do a truce."

Preferably before things got a bit out of hand, especially since at the rate things were going at, they were only going to continuously escalate.

Fred would've preferred to get the last word in, but he'd also like the instructions for each of the pranks they'd committed against them.

"Look there's Hermione," George pointed out as the small third year stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Her bag was bulging with books and there was a quill tucked behind her ear.

"Where d'you think she and the other two go when they're not in classes?" Angelina wondered aloud as she considered the twelve year old witch.

Both twins shrugged as one before George called out to her, "Hey, Hermione, c'mere a mo'."

Hermione looked over to them in surprise and then her eyes considered them with curiosity. "If this is about a prank, I don't know anything."

Lee, who'd had to run down to the library to grab a book for an essay, laughed as he walked past her to plop himself down in the empty seat at the table his friends were sitting at.

George snorted. "How d'you feel about helping us with a ceasefire?" he asked and Hermione's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"Really?" she couldn't help but ask in surprise. "You're admitting defeat?"

Fred's expression soured and George wrinkled his nose. "Conceding that both our groups are evenly matched," Fred corrected. "So? Any ideas for a ceasefire?"

Hermione smiled.

* * *

Hope frowned at the bloodstone that had cracked since that disaster at the Quidditch match.

"One use only?" she muttered in aggravation. "That's _very_ helpful."

Though, it was probably the thing that had kept her from getting brained by that Bludger, so she couldn't really complain; having to spend more time than usual in the hospital wing wasn't exactly on her to-do list.

She shoved the cracked bloodstone back into her pocket with a huff, flicking her long thick plait over one shoulder.

Hermione had said that Fred and George were planning a ceasefire and that had honestly surprised Hope a bit, and Daphne had toyed with the idea that the ceasefire was itself a prank, but Hermione was certain it was genuine.

Hope pursed her lips in thought. The twins were more into fun than anything else, and she was sure that if it was a prank instead of a ceasefire, it would at least be good natured.

Daphne and Hermione were already in the Great Hall and Hope was only running late because she'd wanted to put some finishing touches on her essay for Charms class before breakfast, which, retrospectively, she could've done the previous night, if she wasn't reading through her Earth Magick book, but she knew which one she preferred.

Hope stepped into the Great Hall and drew short at the sight of it. The Great Hall's ceiling normally reflected the weather outside, but today was the exception. Instead there were thousands upon thousands of stars twinkling above them, a glittering and glowing green.

Aesthetically, it could have been construed as pleasing to the eye, particularly if your favourite colour was green, but Hope's favourite colour was blue most days.

But when she saw the green shining lights, all she could think about was her nightmares with that high pitched laughing and the flash of green that she now knew to be the light from the Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse that had taken her parents from her.

And all the blood bled from Hope's face and she left the Hall quickly before someone could give her a reason to stay. She didn't even notice the startled expressions on the faces of her friends and the Weasley twins.

She didn't force herself to come to a stop until she'd reached the viaduct, leaning heavily against the stone.

It seemed so stupid to her, to freak out about glittering green stars, but, at the same time, they reminded her far too much of the gleam of the Avada Kedavra from her nightmares.

* * *

The first Hogsmeade visit happened the Saturday the week of the ceasefire fiasco, and since Hope, Daphne, and Hermione were all third years, they were permitted to go to the village since they all had their slips signed.

Hope was a little anxious about it because she was meeting the Blackwoods at the Three Broomsticks, and even though she'd met Thalia once before, the same couldn't be said about her children, Galen and Agathe (though she'd spoken a few words to her).

She wasn't quite avoiding the Weasley twins, but she wasn't really seeking them out either, still a bit irritated about the botched ceasefire. It would've been fine if the stars had been blue…but _green?_ She shivered.

"We can come with you," Hermione offered, taking note of Hope's shiver as she kept her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat. Her dark hair was in a crown braid and there were a green scarf bound tightly around her throat because it was getting colder and Scotland was rather famous for its cold winters, making Hope glad that she was going home to Wales for Christmas; it was still cold, but she was less likely to suffer from frostbite. "If, you know, you want us to?"

Daphne was tightly bundled; she had a problem with cold. But she bobbed her head in agreement.

"I'll be fine," Hope promised, "besides, it's more of a family thing…and didn't you two want to get a look at Honeydukes?"

Hermione's eyes gleamed at the thought. She hadn't had an awful lot of Wizarding sweets and her parents hadn't wanted her to eat too much Muggle candies either, being dentists, so she was very eager to see what Honeydukes had in store.

"Don't forget about Zonko's," Daphne added, her words slightly muffled, "I want to see if I can use some of their items on Astoria over the holiday."

All three shared a laugh at that, though before parting ways, agreeing to meet up in an hour, before Hope pulled on the door into The Three Broomsticks and opened it.

She'd only been there once, when Remus had taken her, and it had been nowhere near as packed. The lights cast a soft glow over the patrons of the pub, illuminating the hustle and bustle of the people, talking and eating, and making odd noises in the case of the hags in the corner. The clientele was rather widespread and Hope was sure she saw a vampire, but she could've just been imagining it.

It was much warmer in the pub and inn than it was outside, for which she was grateful, pulling the scarf from her neck and looping her coat over her arm as she peered out over the masses.

Thalia and Agathe both had red hair, and the colour helped Hope in her search for them until she caught sight of a small family in one of the smaller booths, clearly made for no more than four people (unless there was an expansion charm for more, but Hope couldn't really tell).

Thalia's red hair was cropped to her shoulders, but her daughter's was long and bound into twin braids, and the son was a contrast with the mother and daughter in that his hair was dark and so were his eyes.

Hope had written more letters since the term started than she'd been expecting to, but she hadn't really been expecting to find out that there were more people related to Thanatos than herself. Remus got a lot of letters from her, but she had sent a few out to Thalia as well.

Their relation might not be as close as others (like her and Daphne, or even, her and Draco, as much as she loathed to admit it), but all the other descendants of Thanatos were dead and even a drop of godly blood meant something between their families.

"Hope, over here!"

Aggie had jumped up, recognizing her picture from the one she'd sent the Blackwoods in response to the one she'd received.

Hope liked Aggie a lot, and they had a lot of similar interests in runes and Earth Magick which Aggie had expressed an interest in looking into.

Earth Magick was considered one of the more ancient and powerful magicks in Greece, not nearly as frowned upon as it was in Britain, lumped in with the Dark Arts as it was. Greece was one of the first places where Earth Magick was first used (perhaps even the first, but documentation that far back was a bit spotty) before wand magic came into being.

Galen, on the other hand, was a bit more reserved, studying to be a part of the Magical Greek Isles' Auror department, like his mother before him. And Hope couldn't tell if he didn't like her or if he was still coming up with his own view on her.

None of the Blackwoods brought up the missing member of their family unit, so Hope thought it was best to keep away from the subject as well.

Hope smiled as she made her way forward, even though Aggie's exuberant call had directed some patrons attention towards her and how her hair was styled didn't particularly hide the scar on her forehead, but she was still slightly thrown by Aggie's swift hug when she reached their table and she stumbled slightly, bringing her hands up automatically to wind around Aggie's back.

"It's so _nice_ to meet you in person!"

Aggie's eyes gleamed as she bounced on her feet once she'd released Hope from the hug, before adding, "Well, I mean, there was that time at Corinth Crossroads, but we didn't have enough time to really talk!"

Hope couldn't help but laugh as the Greek witch who was only a few months younger than her babbled. "You're more talkative in person than in writing," she cheeked and Thalia smiled while Galen released a sharp snort as his sister pouted slightly.

"It's what she's good at," Galen smirked and Aggie cast an unamused expression towards her brother.

"It's nice to meet you," he added with a slight smile, scooting out of the booth to stand and Hope wasn't sure if he wanted to shake her hand or hug, so she waited for him to make the first move.

But he gave her a one-armed hug that Hope wasn't expecting it.

"Nice to meet you too," Hope smiled before glancing to Thalia who had kept her silence.

"We've only got an hour, I'm afraid," the older witch apologized, "then we have to get back home."

"That's fine," Hope assured her.

The idea of family was still a new and overwhelming concept to Hope and she thought maybe small doses would be a good way to start.

* * *

"Hey!" Daphne and Hermione were bright-cheeked from the cold when they entered The Three Broomsticks to find Hope waiting for them and saving them a seat at the booth the Blackwoods had just vacated. "How'd it go?"

"I think it went well," Hope laughed as they sidled into the booth, sitting down with audible sighs. Daphne's bag was bigger than Hermione's, but Hermione had less pocket-change to spend. "Galen and Aggie are really nice and Thalia's great…what about you two?"

Daphne moaned as she slumped in her seat. "Oh, _Hecate_ , Zonko's was _amazing!_ There are so many things I can use on Stori! Christmas holiday is going to be _great!"_

"But you have to come and see Honeydukes!" Hermione insisted. "There's so many sweets! They've got the usual, you know, with those Pumpkin Pasties and Chocolate Frogs, but then they've got things like Candyfloss, Pepper Imps, and Acid Pops!"

Hope never thought she'd live to see the day when Hermione was raving about sweets. "Do they have any Cauldron Cakes or anything with peppermint?"

Hermione and Daphne bobbed their heads quickly.

"You're going," Daphne said firmly, "we're doing this for your best interests."

Hope laughed as the landlady –and sometimes waitress– Rosmerta arrived at their table. She was a pretty sort of witch with glittery green heels and a pad in her hand as she considered them.

"A bit young, aren't you?" she inquired of them.

"We're advanced," Hope grinned widely, "we started third year…you can check with our professors if you want."

But Rosmerta clearly considered that to be too much of a hassle with such a busy crowd.

She chuckled. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Now, what'll you ladies be having for drinks?"

"Butterbeer," Daphne said quickly and Hermione nodded after considering the menu.

"Three Butterbeers," Hope said, "thank you."

"No problem, lovelies," Rosmerta responded easily with a glinting smile. "I'll run back and get your drinks while you decide on your meal, all right?"

As soon as she'd flitted away, they were besieged by two red-haired lads.

" _We're really sorry_!" the twins said in unison and very fast as if afraid she wouldn't let them get their words out and Hope blinked, her mouth gaping slightly at the pair.

"We asked Hermione and she said that you really liked the stars—" Fred started.

"And she said you liked the colour green, too," George added, "so we kind of mixed them together—"

Hope arched an eyebrow. "Usually my favourite colour is blue, actually."

" _Really?"_ Fred and George weren't the only ones surprised at that.

"What?" Hope demanded in annoyance, looking to Hermione and Daphne who were faintly astounded.

"When was the last time you wore blue, Hope?" Hermione asked dryly.

Hope wrinkled her nose. "Just because I don't wear it all the time doesn't mean it's _not_ my favourite colour."

"It kind of does," Daphne snorted, bringing up a hand and showing her a space between her thumb and forefinger.

Hope glared before turning her attention back to the twins in question. "Just so you know, I still have nightmares about the day my parents died and those light glittering stars were too…" Hope's words trailed off slightly as she tried to come up with the most appropriate word for it, but in the end, her words failed her.

Both boys looked rather ashamed about it that Hope couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

"Don't worry about it," she assured them both, "its fine. You can make it up to me later."

George privately thought she was a bit too easygoing about the whole thing, but if she was willing to mend the bridges they'd accidentally almost broken, then he wouldn't be one to judge.

"Okay," Fred said slowly, looking as confused as George felt, "exactly how're we making it up to you?"

Hope's eyes shifted from their usual green to the blue that was identical to his and George's. "I haven't decided," she said at long last, a smirk forming on her lips.

"You are very _devious,"_ George declared with a laugh that he shared with his brother.

"Oh, Weasley," Hope said slyly, "you're just _now_ figuring that out?"

* * *

Hope liked flying more when the weather was nicer, but flying in the cold wasn't nearly as bad as she'd initially thought it to be, of course, the cold air to the face was a bit stunning and pulling tears from her eyes if she went too fast.

But flying was too exhilarating to give up, even with how the weather was growing colder by the day as they approached the end of November.

Some days all there was was frost, other days there was a light layer of snow on the ground. Today was a good day for Hope in that it was only frost that she had to worry about.

The strong wind buffeted her and she crested through it, circling back to Hogwarts as the sun broke over the horizon, ready to start a new day.

* * *

"Remus is still worried about the Blackwoods," Hope mentioned where she was curled up on the couch close to the fire in Morea's Room, skimming through her pseudo-uncle's most recent letter.

"Well, they did kind of show up out of the blue," Daphne pointed out, chewing on the end of her quill as she contemplated her next sentence in her Transfiguration essay, glancing over the text she had open in front of her, her brow furrowed.

"Grandfather vouches for them," Hope pointed out, "they're the last of his blood, not including me. Descendants of Thanatos should stick together."

"You realize that sounds a little ridiculous, right?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow and Hope frowned at her for good measure.

"Well, I like them," she sulked. "They're just my very distant cousins."

"I'm probably one of your cousins," Daphne snorted and Hope contemplated throwing the book at her head when Salazar's spectre made a sudden appearance.

"Hey," she said with a wide grin, "Daphne and Hermione were starting to think you only hang around when they're not here."

"What—?" Hermione said flummoxed, looking up from their first draft of their map to open her mouth and scream at the sight of Salazar.

Daphne yelped more in response to Hermione's scream than the appearance of the long-dead founder, and Hope couldn't really blame either of them; Salazar was known for being startling.

The wizard considered her friends with vague interest, looking as he always had; with dark robes, pale eyes, and aristocratic features that he grew into.

"That was the general idea, yes," Salazar said, arching an eyebrow, "though finding the time to separate the three of you is a rather impossible task that I've nearly given up on."

Hope's lips curled into a smile. "Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass…this is Salazar Slytherin, my ancestor."

Salazar, ever the picture of propriety, stooped into a bow just for them.

"Ladies," he hummed, taking note of how Hermione was using Daphne as a human shield and how Daphne was mouthing wordlessly at him.

"You're –er– younger than I was expecting," Daphne managed to force past her numb lips.

Salazar shrugged one shoulder. "I may appear however I wish; it's an upside to being dead."

"Something to look forward to, I'm sure," Daphne said faintly.

Hope toyed with the idea that her friend might actually faint as Salazar's eyes slid to Hermione.

"Muggle-born, I presume?" he said and Hermione jolted. "Forgive me, but I don't think anyone else would react in such a way to me."

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized quickly, her face white, but Salazar waved it away.

"Apologies are not necessary," he assured her, "I'll admit I had a…disposition against Muggles even at the time of my death, though it is unfortunate that such negativity has lasted as long as it has."

"You underestimated blood purity and bigotry," Hope piped up from her spot on the couch.

Salazar inclined his head. "You wouldn't be incorrect, Elpis."

Hope rolled her eyes at the use of her ancestral name behind his back and Hermione had to stifle her giggles with her hands, but Daphne –trying not to look bad in front of her House Founder– simply tried to glue her lips together but her shoulders shook with the effort.

Salazar turned swiftly to look at her and Hope quickly schooled her expression into one of innocence that wouldn't have fooled anyone that knew her far too well, but Daphne and Hermione weren't entirely sure if Salazar had reached that level yet.

"What?" Hope asked. "Did you just pop by to freak out my friends?"

"I had considered it." His lips curled and Hermione wondered if the expression was something Hope had picked up from him, because it was rather spot on, and a bit terrifyingly so. "But, no, I'm here for your lesson."

"We're not doing more reading are we?" Hope asked, a bit put out at the very thought, but Daphne knew better; Hope enjoyed absolutely everything about Earth Magick, even the reading was fascinating to her.

"No, we're not." His eyes glittered slightly. "Tell me, Elpis, how do you feel about _mist?"_

Hope's brow furrowed. "I guess I don't really _mind_ it; I live in Wales, you know." Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

His smile shifted into a smirk with a single move and Hope had an awful sense of foreboding.

"You think that means anything good?" Hermione murmured to Daphne who was watching the exchange in rapt attention.

"Oh, _definitely not."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been such a long wait, but nursing school is so much harder than I'd expected it to be. December will be a month for updates, though, I promise. It's not likely that I'll be able to get another one out until then (sorry, again!).
> 
> So, Salazar has finally met Hermione and Daphne, and I get the feeling that he actually enjoys freaking people out because that seems to be all he does.
> 
> And the Blackwoods have officially met Hope! We'll see more of them over Christmas holiday but they're still pretty minor for awhile.
> 
> We'll also get into a bit more of Earth Magick, though a lot of it will be focused on in late book two.


	14. Snow Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of feel bad about how much you guys were excited about Hope working with mist (which is not the Mist that is in PJO, just so we're all clear, it's just fog) but it's not really important.
> 
> Salazar really likes freaking the Muses out, though.
> 
> Shout out to Yulisa for catching the snitch mistake that yours truly made last chapter!
> 
> In other news: a minor change his been made to ST that more has to do with chapter one, but Hope's wand wood has been changed to black poplar because the symbolism suits her far more than holly does.

November slipped into December almost unnoticed as the snow fall began to thicken around the school and it grew colder with each passing day.

"Do you think it's less cold in Wales?" Hope muttered through clenched teeth as they marched through the snow.

"Well, you can stay inside all holiday so you don't have to be in the cold," Daphne pointed out, rubbing her mittened-hands together. "Got any specific plans?"

"Remus is a bit wary about the Blackwoods coming over for Christmas for some family stuff," Hope admitted, "but Christmas is for family, you know…I think he needs to meet Thalia and have a _discussion."_

Hermione stifled her giggles into her scarf.

"What about you guys?"

"Mum and Dad and I are just doing something small," Hermione shrugged, "it's only the three of us."

Her father's sister's family had been estranged for years and that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. Hermione was secretly glad, though, for her father's sake, because he was never happy when she was brought up.

"We're actually going back to Greece for Christmas," Daphne grinned. "'Storia and I haven't seen Nana since the summer. We're going to have a Greek feast."

" _Unfair,"_ Hope lamented and Daphne threw back her head to lose her laugh in the wind. "But we should definitely do something over Christmas."

"You mean, like our own celebration?" Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow as they stepped past the large oaken doors.

" _Yeah!_ We could make the food together!" Hope's eyes brightened.

"I've never cooked a day in my life," Daphne felt the need to point out and both Hermione and Hope stared at her. "What?"

"Cooking's not _that_ hard," Hermione said.

"Unless you burn everything," Hope had to concede and Hermione gave her that. "Don't worry, Mindy can point you in the right direction."

"Thanks for that," Daphne said dryly, almost walking into a dark-skinned Gryffindor their age. "Oh, sorry!"

"No problem," he said before breezing past her, talking with a boy that had a rather thick Irish accent.

"But you've never cooked before?" Hermione pressed.

"Never really had the interest, to be perfectly honest."

Hope rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "So, you're leaving for Greece pretty soon, then?"

"The day after we take the Hogwarts Express back," Daphne agreed. Their Heads of House had already come by to collect the names of people staying over the holiday, and none of them had given their names, as they were all going home for Christmas.

"I bet it's pretty nice in Greece," Hope lamented before twisting on her heel in order to avoid being toppled by Marcus Flint. "Don't you have better things to do with time than trip people?"

The sneer warped his face as he looked down his nose at her. "You're the one in my way, Potter," he said as he moved past her, jostling her once more.

"Prick," Hope muttered. "What are the chances of anyone in Slytherin House liking me anytime soon?"

"Very low." Daphne rolled her eyes. "But Greece is going to be great…maybe over the summer you guys should go and visit."

"I was thinking about it, since we didn't do much before we started class, you know, other than catching up on sleep," Hope admitted and all three shared a look. Skipping year one and two had been probably the most stressful thing any of them had ever done (not counting Hermione taking all of the classes she was taking currently with the aid of her time turner), but it had been worth it in the long run. "My family has an estate in Greece." They probably had more than one, actually, but Hope had really checked.

"Of _course_ they do," Hermione muttered dryly before clearing her throat. "But I'm going to be making a lot of cookies; Christmas is the only time we really get into sweets."

If there were sweets in the house any other time of the year, they were sugar-free, being that Hermione's parents were dentists.

" _Ooh!"_ Hope's eyes brightened to a silvery colour. "Remus, Mindy, and I should make a _lot_ of cookies over break."

Chocolate chip cookies and pies and treacle tarts…Hope's mouth watered at the mere thought of it.

"When was the last time you have homemade cookies?" Hope moaned.

"A while," Daphne and Hermione conceded.

"Gods, I miss Potter Manor," Hope groaned as they sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Hogwarts isn't so bad," Daphne responded, pulling a jug of pumpkin juice towards her in order to pour it into her goblet.

"It's not terrible," Hope admitted, appearing rather put upon and Hermione couldn't silence her giggles. "But Potter Manor is much warmer."

The dungeons of Hogwarts were cold, and the only upside was that the many blankets that they had to use were probably enchanted as well, because they were warm enough to stave off the cold. Hope didn't know how everyone else managed it so well, but maybe it was that they were more used to it.

The issues Hope had with her dorm-mates, barring Daphne, of course, hadn't improved. In fact, the tension between her and Daphne and the rest of the House had remained largely unchanged.

Marcus Flint was a major thorn in her side, but most of the House just settled with sneering at her. Draco Malfoy appeared to be a fan of that method, but Hope could ignore them if she wanted, which she usually did.

At least at Potter Manor Hope didn't have to worry about the whispers or Snape making her miserable, and he was still doing that. It took skill to be subtly insulting and Hope wished she was as developed in that area as he was, but she wasn't.

"And it's got more of my things," Hope admitted.

"Your trunk is magically expanded," Hermione felt the need to point out and Hope waved a hand in her direction, disregarding her words, and the girls descended into laughter.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was meandering through the castle invisible as he sometimes did when he came across the soft hum of conversation from behind the door that he had placed the Mirror of Erised with the Philosopher's Stone within, not yet ready to be moved beneath the trap door on the third floor.

It took a bit of complicated magic in order to get through the door without opening it.

The scene within surprised him.

Hope Potter in lavender-coloured pyjamas and a thick black robe to keep her warm and a young man with dark hair and pale eyes, both inspecting the mirror.

"It's beautiful," Hope murmured, trailing her fingers along its frame where she could reach it. "How long did it take you to make it?"

"More than a fortnight," the boy chuckled.

"Did she finally agree to marry you afterwards?" Hope laughed.

"Well, she was more amenable to the idea," the boy conceded. "Can you imagine why?"

Hope frowned thoughtfully. "Er, well, it's a really nice mirror?"

It was faintly amusing to listen to her like she was now, curious and confused and not the girl who had been so angry in his office near the start of term.

"Elpis," the boy said, extending his hand to her and it took Dumbledore a moment to realize that it was a name, and, even more surprising, was that she responded to it, reaching out her own hand, allowing him to pull her to stand in front of the mirror, forcing her to face it, "tell me what you see."

"I see me at Potter Manor," Hope said in surprise, "I'm older…I'm with Daphne and Hermione and Remus…and Thalia, Galen, and Aggie…I'm different…"

"Different?" the boy prompted.

"I've mastered it," Hope said in awe, "like Morea did…its _beautiful."_

"She thought so as well," he hummed softly, sounding rather forlorn and Hope smiled, reaching out to take his hand.

"You could move on, you know," she mentioned, "you deserve an eternity together and you've already spent so many centuries here."

"No, not yet," the boy said with a certainty that couldn't help but be admired, "your skill is negligible at best, I won't leave until I think you can handle learning it on your own."

Hope's expression soured. "Thanks for that vote of confidence, Salazar."

The admission of his name was the thing that had stopped Dumbledore cold in his tracks. Salazar…as in _Salazar Slytherin?_

The young boy's eyes flicked to where Dumbledore was standing invisible and his lips curved into a smirk, pale eyes glittering malevolently. Dumbledore knew in that instant that he'd been aware of Dumbledore's presence from the moment he had arrived.

"So," Hope cleared her throat suddenly, "you were telling me about the mirror?"

"Ah, yes," Salazar smiled, though taking care not to look into its reflection. Dumbledore wondered what he saw within it. "It's called the Mirror of Erised." He raised a hand to brush his fingers over the lettering over the arched golden frame. "These words are nonsense unless read inverted."

Hope snorted. "You really went all out, didn't you?"

Salazar spared her a smile as she translated the words _"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi"_ backwards.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," she read out loud before quirking an eyebrow. "It's beautiful, Salazar…but why are you showing it to me right now?"

Salazar gave her a mysterious smile.

"I suppose I'll just have to figure it out on my own," Hope presumed with a bit of exasperation.

"That is generally how it goes," Salazar chuckled before offering her the crook of his elbow. "Come along, descendant of mine, while the night is still young."

Hope rolled her eyes, but she took his arm all the same, and it was only when they were gone that Dumbledore allowed himself to breathe.

If that young man was Salazar Slytherin…and Hope was on such good terms with him…well, it gave Dumbledore a very uneasy feeling.

* * *

"You must be Remus Lupin."

The werewolf looked up from putting several books on the shelf to turn and survey the speaker. It was a woman with dancing blue eyes and short curly red hair.

He'd been working as a book-keeper at a small book shop that was two towns over from Potter Manor (and he was starting to get the feeling that Hope's paranoia concerning their home was well deserved) since his pseudo-niece had gone off to Hogwarts.

"Can I help you?" he asked, leaning heavily on his cane.

The next full moon was going to be later that night and his leg was starting to really ache.

"I'm Thalia Blackwood," the woman introduced herself kindly, extending a hand to him and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Hope mentioned that you were a bit… _reluctant_ to the idea of our families spending time together over the holiday."

Remus took her hand and shook it, still eyeing her with a bit of contemplation. "Hope is related to a lot of families that I generally treat with caution."

Thalia's lips curled upwards. "Yes, I've gotten a good look at her side of the family tree…Its rather _extensive_ compared to ours."

Remus smoothed his thumb over the grip of his cane, but he could find nothing to say to that.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asked.

"Not particularly," Remus responded, "but I think sometimes Hope is far too trusting."

Like how she'd gone to have tea with the wife of a known 'reformed' Death Eater over the summer. Remus had thought that was remarkably foolish. She was remarkably like her father in that respect.

"But it doesn't really matter what I think," he admitted, "Potter Manor belongs to Hope and if she wants your family to come for a visit, then you can."

"I think it matters to her." Thalia tilted her head, eyes flicking over his leg and then to a moon chart that was pasted onto the wall by the previous owner of the shop. "The full moon's tonight, I hear it's tougher in the cold."

The colour leeched from Remus' face at the almost off-hand comment.

"Sorry, that was a bit rude of me." Thalia winced. "It's just that the Auror force I work in has two werewolves currently employed and they take the day off the day of a full moon and the day after."

Now Remus was staring at her in incomprehension, because being a werewolf in the UK was nothing short of terrible, because once it was discovered that someone was a werewolf, they were ostracized. Werewolf medical records weren't exactly public knowledge, but that didn't stop the press from finding out if someone was a werewolf, and Remus liked his anonymity.

"You mean…they're not ostracized?" Remus couldn't help but be aghast, and Thalia frowned.

"Of course not," she said. "Lycanthropy isn't terribly uncommon in Greece, but it's the result of a vicious attack. It would be cruel to blame a victim for something beyond their control."

Remus swallowed. "Greece must truly be a wonderful place, then."

Her eyes glittered and she smiled. "Oh, it's all right," Thalia said casually, "but perhaps you'd like to get lunch so we can get know each other a bit better, because I'm rather looking forward to the idea of celebrating Christmas with a distant niece."

And Remus couldn't help but get the feeling that Thalia could be very convincing.

* * *

It had been amusing to watch the Weasley twins bounce snowballs off the back of Professor Quirrel's turban, but within hours the girls had packed up their things, ready for Christmas at home.

The Weasleys were staying at Hogwarts over the break because their parents and little sister were visiting one of their older brothers, Charlie, in Romania where he was a dragonologist.

"Don't worry," George had grinned as he and Fred had come to see their friends off, "we won't miss you."

Hope rolled her eyes as Daphne laughed and Hermione struggled to not sigh quite so openly. "Well, I guess you won't be wanting your present."

That appeared to throw George. "Wait, you got me something?"

But all Hope did was laugh as she climbed into the train.

"Did you actually get them something?" Hermione asked but Hope grinned, pressing a finger to her lips.

"What'd you decide on telling Remus to get you?" Daphne inquired as she pulled out a book from her trunk before stowing it as her friends did the same.

"A greenhouse," Hope said decisively, thumbing through the pages of Morea's book.

"You already have a greenhouse," Hermione felt the need to point out, sharing a confused glance with Daphne. Both had spent time in Hope's greenhouse during Herbology lessons, after all.

"Yeah, for magical plants, but I need one from non-magical herbs and plants," Hope said, her eyes still fixed on the page in front of her, "and you're not really supposed to mix those."

"Really?" Daphne said dubiously. "According to what?"

Hope's fingers tapped against the book in her hands with a grin. "The potions that are involved in Earth Magick aren't generally involved with magical plants because the user can imbue them with their own."

Hermione snorted. "Imbue?"

"It says so, _right there!"_ Hope insisted, holding up a page for the other two to see. "There's a lot of herbs that an earth witch can use…I don't know if Remus is going to actually do it, though."

"I'm sure he will, you know, if Mindy helps him out," Daphne considered. "She's pretty good with creating something out of nothing."

Hope's lips twisted into a brief smile before they descended into silence, opting to focus on their books in the silence.

They didn't speak for almost an hour, but they didn't really need to; the three spent an awful lot of time together as it was.

But it was Hermione who had broken the silence, taking a break from her book in order to stare out of the window a bit aimlessly, but it was the thing outside the window that had caught her attention, because even as the train rushed along the tracks.

"Hope," Hermione said suddenly, "is that… is that _Hedwig_ out there?"

"Huh?" Hope twisted around in her seat in order to look out the window, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw that Hedwig was indeed fluttering in the wind outside, which was rather odd, because she was supposed to be in Wales at Potter Manor.

She sprang up, dropping her book onto her seat as she did so, sliding the window open, allowing a sharp gust of cold wind to enter as the snowy owl hopped inside, bearing a letter on one leg.

Hope shut the window quickly and Hedwig gave a doleful hoot, settling on Hope's shoulder, extending her leg to Hope, and Hope took it with a frown.

"Is that the Potter seal?" Daphne asked in befuddlement at the red wax seal that was indeed the Potter seal.

"Is that a big deal?" Hermione wondered as Hope looked over the scrawling on the envelope before breaking the seal and removing the letter. It appeared to be a list, from what Hermione could ascertain, and it only made Hope's frown deepen.

"Only members of the House can use that seal," Daphne pointed out, "so that would only be Hope, and generally they're next to a signature, not on the envelope."

Hope made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat before shoving the letter into the gap between two pages of her book before curling herself up on the platform booth.

"Are you all right, Hope?" Hermione asked in concern.

"Oh, fine," Hope grumbled, "just regretting the circumstances of my birth."

Daphne arched an eyebrow and Hermione shrugged.

* * *

She had missed him, that Remus could tell very much, but there was also something on her mind and it didn't take much to tell that she was avoiding Mindy, which he thought was rather odd, because Hope rather liked her house-elf, but she claimed to be feeling under the weather and was going to sleep off a terrible headache.

Remus had wanted to question her about it, but it was hard to when she got that look in her eye that was so very much like Lily, and it could've been nothing. Maybe she really was feeling a bit ill, on top of whatever issue she had with Mindy currently.

So he let her be.

* * *

Godric's Hollow was frigid and Hope had to keep her thick-mittened hands in her pockets to keep them from getting too cold, her scarf covering her nose as she walked through the snow. She stopped in front of the war memorial of her parents cradling their infant daughter in their arms. Hope had never liked the memorial very much, there had always been something about it that rubbed her the wrong way. Her parents weren't the only ones to have been killed during the First Wizarding War, and it wasn't really right to mention the sacrifices her parents had made and not take into consideration the ones that others had made.

She scowled at the statue –pure white and untainted by age or elements– before continuing on her way.

There were a few people out and about, but no one bothered her, no one recognized her, which was what Hope had been going for.

She pushed at the gate that was shut against the entrance to the graveyard, swinging it open slowly with a creak as she stepped into the silent graveyard.

It was only the afternoon, but the skies were grey as if ready for another snowfall and the sun was hidden behind the clouds. Hope's footprints were the first in the new snow as she walked along the path between rows of headstones, walking carefully until she came to a stop in front of the white marble headstone.

It was as stately as it had been the first time Hope had come to visit it with Remus and she couldn't help but wonder who had made the plans for the tombstone; was it Lily or was it James? Or perhaps someone else who was close to the family?

Hope's fingers curved in the air, her eyes glowing slightly as she drew a bouquet seemingly out of nothing, setting it down against the tombstone.

"I thought I'd find you here," came a voice to her right and Hope looked up as Thanatos approached, this time wearing a coat over what appeared to be a pantsuit. Hope found that she liked the toga better, but that was just her opinion.

"Don't you have some souls to reap?" Hope muttered thickly through her scarf.

"That's what minions are for, dearest," Thanatos responded, glancing over the tombstone upon which his deceased descendant's name had been so carefully carved. "I can sense your aggravation, Hope, speak."

It sounded like a command, but it didn't irritate Hope too much.

"It's just…there's so much to being an heir that it's kind of putting me off," Hope finally admitted.

" _Oh?"_ He arched an eyebrow. "And here I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into."

Hope glowered towards him.

"It can't be so bad," Thanatos had to acquiesce. "You sacrificed one thing for another. Freedom from the family you hate to independence in Potter Manor. But you aren't just Hope Potter, dearest, you're Heir Potter and Heir Slytherin and one day you will be a lady and there will always be certain things that are expected of you."

Hope sighed with resignation, looking on the tombstone with sombre expression.

"You have a friend who is an heir, do you not?" Thanatos inquired. "Perhaps you should ask her about all that her duties entail."

"It wouldn't be the same," Hope muttered. "Daphne's parents are both alive and she can go to them if she doesn't understand things. I don't have anyone…it's just me."

He considered her for a long moment as she kept her gaze steady and forward. "You have no shortage of advisors, dearest," he assured her, lifting her hand with one of his own, "but I think you'll find that it's your opinion that matters the most."

Something weighed down against her hand and Hope looked down to see a pomegranate clasped in her grasp.

Hope's lips twisted faintly.

* * *

Charlus' office –Hope's now, as she had to keep reminding herself– was much less cluttered than the last time she'd been within it, though that had been months ago.

The high-backed chair behind the desk had been switched with a similar chair only one that was more suited for someone of Hope's size and stature, which she thought was a good idea. The dust had been brushed away, leaving the room far cleaner than Hope had been expecting.

She strode forward, placing the pomegranate her grandfather had left her with on the desk before grasping the curtains with her hands and wrenching them apart to allow sunlight within. Snow swarmed past the windows, caught in the wind, looking very much like Hope and Remus and Mindy were caught in a snow storm, but the wind wasn't nearly strong enough for that.

Hope secured the curtains before settling herself into her chair. This time she could actually reach the desk that had been so very high to her the last time she had sat behind it. The wood that made that desk had been cleaned recently and there was still the pile of unopened mail that had belonged to Charlus next to the raven feather quill where it rested in its holder next to the inkwell.

Her fingers played across the surface of the pomegranate, as she frowned.

"Mindy," Hope called and in a sharp crack, the house-elf appeared.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Do you think my father ever found being an heir exhausting?" Hope questioned, slumping back against the back of her chair.

"Mindy thinks so, yes," Mindy conceded.

Hope sighed again. "All right."

"Would Mistress like some tea?" Mindy inquired as she slid a folder bulging with parchments in front of Hope.

"Yes, tea, lots of tea…raspberry tea," Hope groaned into her arms, "and I need you to cut out the seeds of my pomegranate."

Mindy looked to the fruit but didn't comment much on it, taking it out with her and leaving Hope to her work.

* * *

Sometimes Hope really wished her family wasn't quite so noble. There were so many things to sign and seal and to read through.

"Having fun?"

Her enchanted compact was mounted on a stand that Mindy had kindly fetched for her, bearing Daphne's face, her hair gleaming golden in the sunlight.

Hope wrinkled her nose. "Paperwork isn't _fun,"_ she grumbled, searching through the desk for the wax sticks and sealing stamps in order to authenticate her signature. She made a noise of relief when she found the box in the bottom drawer. "It's long and irritating."

She opened the box, admiring its contents. There were several sticks of wax of varying colours –red, gold (the previous Potter generations were all Gryffindors, so of course red and gold), but also a green and silver one, and Hope couldn't help but get the feeling that the latter was for Dorea, her grandmother, who had been a Slytherin. There were only two stamps in the box, one with an intricate P (for Potter, no doubt) and the other with the Gryffindor seal.

Hope wrinkled her nose. "Mindy," she called out, "I'm going to need a stamp with the family crest!"

"Can she actually hear you?" Daphne snorted.

"Mindy always hears me," Hope said with certainty and a moment later the house-elf appeared with stamp in hand before disappearing off to her errands once more, and Hope barely got a "Thank you," out.

The stamp was smooth in her hand as she tipped it in order to see its miniscule detail. There was a helm on the top of the stamp with the shield bearing two five pointed stars on the top with a patterned line separating the top with the bottom, which had a single five pointed star. Hope wondered if there was a significance to that.

"Go take a break," Daphne suggested, "it won't kill you."

It was easier for her to say, she was in Greece where it was far warmer and far more beautiful, in her not so humble opinion.

"There's a lot of paperwork," Hope groaned into her arms, "I think it'll be better just to get it out of the way now."

"Your loss," Daphne laughed, look towards someone out of the frame. "Astoria and I are having a lot of fun in Greece, without paperwork."

The mirror shifted so that Hope could see a good half of Astoria's youthful face, so much like Daphne's, just as blonde and blue-eyed as her sister.

"Lucky you," Hope said dryly, "I hope you burn in the sun."

Both girls laughter echoed.

"Talk to you later, Hope," Daphne said with good humour, "don't drown too much under the paperwork."

Hope gave another groan as the connection cut off and she was left in the silence once more.

Retrospectively, it wasn't really terrible, but it had a lot to do with the Potter vaults and what the Potters had invested in and the properties they owned, and their duties within the Wizengamot, that sort of thing.

Ragnok was very good about keeping her updated with what was going on with her vaults, though in that instance, not much was happening. The investments the family heads before her had made were currently only thing making the vaults any money, but there was such a substantial amount there that Hope didn't really need to worry about how much she already had or how much she was making.

Hope signed her name in a flourish at the bottom of the parchment, signifying that she'd read the report and agreed with everything she'd seen within before snapping her fingers, the friction causing a small flame to appear at her fingertip. She lit the wick on the red wax stick before inverting it to allow the flame to melt at the wax, and slowly the red wax began to drip down onto the parchment next to her name and when there was a significant amount, Hope blew it out and replaced the stick in the box and took up the stamp of the family crest and pressed it down into the wax, leaving it there for a few moments before removing it, leaving the impression behind.

"One down, so many to go," Hope muttered a bit despondently.

"Hard at work, I see," came Remus' pleasant voice as he gave a light knock against the door and Hope leaned back against her chair, letting out a loud breath.

"Being an heir is exhausting, Remus," Hope bemoaned before sulkily bringing her cup of tea to her lips and drinking.

"Yes, I'd gathered." Remus gave her a smile. "How about a break?"

Hope groaned loudly. "That's what Daphne said, but I don't have time to take a break, I have to finish all this!" She gesticulated wildly towards the pile of flattened parchment and rolls of parchment bound tightly shut.

"There isn't a time limit for when that needs to be done," Remus pointed out, the smile still present on his lips. "Come on, Hope, take a breather."

"And do what?" Hope inquired petulantly.

"How about going on a short walk with me?"

That caused Hope to quirk an eyebrow before looking out of the window into the flurry-filled air.

"A short walk," Remus felt the need to reiterate, and Hope blew out a breath explosively from her lips before pushing herself back from the chair.

"All right, then," she said, moving past him to grab her boots and coat, then she looped her arm through his as they walked through the door.

The Potter Lands were like a scene from a fairytale of a winter wonderland. It was utterly breathtaking and Hope could enjoy it far more than the scene at Hogwarts. Of course, aesthetically, Hogwarts was beautiful white-capped with snow, but Hogwarts wasn't even close to feeling like home, it just happened to be a place that she had to spend most of her time.

The snow crunched under their feet as they walked.

"Thalia Blackwood has had some words with me," Remus said after a moment of silence and Hope blinked in surprise, tilting her head back to look at him.

"You talked? _When?"_

"The night before last," Remus informed her, "we had tea."

Hope arched an eyebrow. "And how'd that go?"

"Far better than I'd been expecting," Remus had to admit. "And I don't mind if you want her and her children to come over for Christmas."

"Are you sure?" Hope asked with her brow furrowed. "I know you weren't really…happy about it when I brought it up."

"I was a bit uneasy," Remus corrected as they stepped over a fallen log, "but I'd never met her, either, so…"

"Never judge a book by its cover?" Hope presumed, a faint smile twisting onto her lips.

"Something like that," Remus couldn't help but agree with a small chuckle. "She actually offered me a job."

Hope's eyes flashed a bright hazel with excitement. "Really? As what?"

"Evidently the Auror Force in Greece actually has an interest in hiring someone over the summer for a seminar on magical creatures and what to do if you find certain creatures in your path," Remus explained.

Hope's brow furrowed. "Wouldn't that be good for a lot of people to know, though?"

"Well, it's sponsored by the Auror Force," Remus corrected, "but the Head of that department likes the idea of her aurors being well-informed."

Hope's laugh echoed and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Thalia would."

"But it'll be nice to have a sort of family Christmas meal, don't you think?" Hope asked him, her hand squeezing his arm slightly as she slipped over ice.

Remus couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd had a family meal for Christmas. His father, Lyall had always blamed himself for Remus becoming a werewolf, and rather rightly too, even decades later Remus couldn't help but still be bitter over the part his father had played. His mother, Hope, had tried to make Christmas lively when he was a child, but she had died shortly before Voldemort had risen to power and Remus remained estranged from his father.

"Yes," he said with a faint smile, "I think it will be."

He was sure Hope could tell that his thoughts were far away, but she didn't bring it up as they circled back to the manor.

* * *

"I need to get you something for Christmas!"

"Oh, not this _again,"_ Hope complained, keeping her arm looped with Aggie's in order to keep herself from being lost in the crowd of people in Corinth Crossroads, all examining the current wares. "I thought you lot were helping Remus with my present."

Remus had been very quiet about the matter, other than telling her not to take the back door, which gave Hope the feeling that whatever he was working on was outside.

"Yeah, but I've got to give you something on _top_ of that," Aggie grumbled a bit petulantly.

The sun was shining down on them and Hope had turned her hair an identical bronze that Thanatos was known to favour, keeping her eyes as dark as his.

"Why bother?" Hope snorted. "I don't need a lot of things."

"Well, what're you getting me?" Aggie inquired.

Hope couldn't help but release a laugh at that. "Something Earth Magick related."

" _Ooh_ , you're no fun!" The blue-eyed witch complained.

Hope pulled her to a stop at a small shop that was selling loose leaf tea, more than she was accustomed to seeing, her eyes drifting over the various types with interest.

"You need to stop drinking so much tea," Aggie said, wrinkling her nose at her cousin, "that much tea can't be good for you."

"Can't hate what you've never tried," Hope responded, paying for a box of pomegranate, lavender, rose, mint, and hibiscus tea respectively.

It was easy to be around Aggie, she was very up-front about her thoughts and she had a deep love for the Ancient Arts, something that wasn't nearly as frowned upon in the Greek Isles as it was in the UK.

"Mum says we're going to your place in the morning and having Christmas lunch," Aggie added as they poked around the sweet shop, getting a good look at the various kinds of fudge that were there.

"That's the plan," Hope agreed as they shared some peppermint fudge. "Where're Galen and your mum, anyways?"

"Busy." Aggie's nose wrinkled for good measure. "I think Galen wants to bring Dianthe over, you know, his girlfriend, she was going to come over for Christmas lunch this year anyways."

Hope grimaced. "I didn't think about if you lot had had any plans."

"Don't worry about it," Aggie waved a hand carelessly before beaming at her. "We've never had family over for Christmas. Mum's parents and Aunt Aglaia died before we were born and our dad…well…" Aggie's lip curled in disdain.

Hope remembered the story about how Nileas Ganis had left them without so much as a word, and she couldn't help but feel second-hand resentment towards him on the Blackwoods behalf.

"I've barely celebrated Christmas before," Hope admitted, keen to turn the conversation elsewhere. "Last year with Remus was the first time for me."

Aggie stared at her. "You're…you're _serious?"_

Hope arched an eyebrow. "Did you think I ran away for kicks?"

Aggie didn't really have a response to that, but luckily for her, they were interrupted by Galen's voice.

"You two were supposed to be down the street ten minutes ago."

Hope found it a bit aggravating how almost everyone she knew was much taller than her, and Galen was no exception. At the height she and Aggie shared, he practically towered over them.

"We were just walking around," Hope said a bit mutinously, her bag swinging wildly on her arm, hitting against the side of her leg, unaccustomed to the harried expression Galen had been wearing that had now been replaced with relief.

"You're both eleven," Galen pointed out. "You shouldn't be going _anywhere_ without a minder."

Hope rolled her eyes and Aggie snorted. "So is the girlfriend coming to lunch?"

"What?" Galen asked dumbly.

" _Dianthe Floros,"_ Hope and Aggie sang together. "Is she coming to Christmas lunch?"

"Well, ah," Galen floundered a bit, and the two girls laughed.

* * *

Hope had never truly appreciated just how large the Potter Library was. There were two levels to it, with the stacks reaching high, all the way to the ceiling, making it seem almost as though there was an endless supply of books.

Hope pursed her lips as she looked over the titles with a vague sort of interest. She should probably be practicing her violin, like she had been doing five minutes earlier. Greek lessons were after lunch, so Hope had some time.

She couldn't help but think about what Salazar had said about the Mirror of Erised, how she was going to have to discover for herself why the mirror was so important. She moved the rolling ladder, climbing up to the fourth rung before pulling a particular book out and twisting around to sit on the rung –which, arguably, was a _bit_ of a precarious situation, if Hope had been caring at all about her safety– in order to flip through the pages without too much of a care.

The book itself was on enchanted objects, and, evidently, there had been many made over the years, though very few appeared to still be enchanted, as most of the spells had worn off over time.

She traced her fingers over the words and the depictions of the mirrors on the pages listed for mirrors in particular. What she really wanted was…there it was!

_Mirrors, much like stone arches, have been believed to be associated with doorways to other realms. Some have made claims to lead into the Underworld itself, while others merely move you from place to place as long as there is one at the destination the caster was intending to reach. Transportation by mirror was uncommon and in some places rare in its use by witches and wizards in how unpredictable it can be. Wizards and Witches prefer the more trustworthy art of Apparition for the sake of travel._

_Mirrors were first used in the art of scrying that evolved from a form of water scrying, known simply as catoxtromancy, or a form of divination by means of a looking glass—_

"Mistress?"

Hope yelped, the book slipping from her grasp to tumble to the ground in order to look at the house-elf who appeared rather bemused.

"Shouldn't Mistress be practicing her violin?" Mindy probed as Hope slid down the ladder carefully in order to land on her feet.

"Yes, maybe that might be a good idea," Hope muttered as she knelt to pick up the book, smoothing it closed and heading off in the direction of the ballroom before Mindy could say anything else.

* * *

Hope hadn't picked up her violin in quite some time. She'd just gotten so busy with everything and then going away to Hogwarts, that it had slipped her mind. But, she did need to practice, as Mindy said, because practice was the only way she was going to get any better.

She brought the string instrument up to prop onto her shoulder, moving her fingers into the correct positions before bringing up bow to slide it over the strings.

The sheet music that Mindy had given her were slower and less upbeat than the pieces Mindy had had her practice in the spring and summer, but Hope had always thought Christmas was a bit more sombre…colder.

The melody was slow and Hope stumbled over a few of the notes, pitched screech she came up with instead making her grimace slightly before bumbling along into the correct notes.

The music spread throughout the ballroom and echoed oddly off the walls giving the music a much eerier sound than perhaps the composer had intended.

Hope didn't see how Mindy nodded approvingly even as she struggled to get her fingers to move in the correct way.

* * *

Hope stirred flour into the mixture while Hermione helped her mother drop batter onto the pan that was going into the oven.

"Galen's girlfriend is coming over for Christmas lunch," Hope informed Hermione and Hermione arched her eyebrows.

"Aren't you a bit paranoid about people coming to the manor?"

"I am _not!"_ Hope cried, sounding just slightly insulted. "I just like my privacy and, you know, a lot of people want me dead."

That made Mrs. Granger pause in order to raise her head to look at Hope, in her denim and plaid with her hair wound into a long plait down her back, undoubtedly trying to fathom why someone would be interested in killing an eleven year old with questionable taste.

"A lot of people want you dead?" she had to repeat a bit dubiously.

"Well, my parents fought in a war and some of the people they fought against didn't quite get the jail time they deserved," Hope said the words carefully, not entirely sure if she was explaining it the best way. "Slytherin House is full of Pure-blood supremacists, which isn't that much of a surprise when you consider Salazar's views…"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "I thought you liked Salazar?"

"Oh, I do," Hope said quickly, bobbing her head in agreement. "He's great and everything, but he's…he's very _bitter."_

She pursed her lips and frowned. It couldn't have just been because of his parents and brother's death, of course, she was certain he was still angry about it, much like she was angry about her own parents' demise, but there was something else.

"I think it's something to do with his son, Adrian," Hope added.

"The one that killed almost everyone in the family?"

"Hope, I must say, I am slightly concerned about the people you're related to," Mrs. Granger said, with eyes wide at Hermione's question.

Hope snorted. "We've got a lot of issues. Hopefully Adrian's madness died with him."

"How did Adrian die?" Hermione inquired curiously and Hope paused in order to think.

"You know I don't really know," she decided a moment later.

He had still been seventeen when he'd died though, that much she'd been able to ascertain from the family tree dates listed under his name from date of birth to date of death, and that was the real tragedy. A boy barely out of childhood so driven mad by the Dark Arts that he was willing to take the lives of his mother, sister, and brother-in-law, intending to kill his nephew and father but not quite making it.

"If there's one thing my family's good at, its tragedy." Hope frowned as she stirred the batter a bit more firmly than was necessary.

"Do you think the Wolfsbane Potion is difficult to make?" she asked so suddenly that Hermione stared.

"Er, I think it might be," the brunette acquiesced and Hope dug down into the bag she'd brought, hanging over the chair in order to pull out her copy of _Moste Potente Potions_ , furrowing her brow as she carefully flipped through the pages.

The book itself could actually be found in the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library, though Hope wasn't allowed access through there, besides, she preferred her own books to the ones in that library. _Moste Potente Potions_ wasn't that bad, considering the vast array of books that were contained within the restricted section, and Hope could only assume it had earned its place in that section based on the kind of potions that were within its pages and the vulgar descriptions of the side effects of said potions.

"Well it takes two weeks," Hope said a moment later, frowning over the curling ink beneath the potion's title as Hermione reached over to grab the cookie dough she'd been mixing together in order to put them on the pan with her mother's help. "Apparently sugar makes it useless."

"Why would you even put sugar in a potion in the first place?" Hermione asked curiously as her mother listened silently with a bit of curiosity. Hermione had written a lot of letters over the course of the term, so it wasn't really as though magic was very new to her, or spells, or potions. She didn't understand much of what Hermione and her friends said, but it was plain to see her daughter's enthusiasm, so she was content like that.

"Maybe the potion doesn't taste very good," Hope considered, frowning for good measure at the ingredients. "Remus mentioned the potion before…I think it was created within the last fifty years or so but he was disappointed that he couldn't make it."

"Not much of a potioneer?" Hermione asked.

Hope shrugged. "That and the ingredients are a bit expensive."

Thankfully, all the ingredients listed on the page where stored in the potion's room at Potter Manor, so she wouldn't have to look far in order to find what she needed.

"Maybe I'll make it as a Christmas present for Remus," Hope contemplated out loud.

"I thought it was a bit difficult," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but that's potions for you," Hope grumbled, more to herself than to her friend. "There's a reason I'm barely passing, and it's not because I'm terrible at potions."

Snape evidently took her very existence to be a personal insult, which Hope found to be a bit ridiculous, but she could fight fire with fire on that one. One more than one occasion she'd vindictively toyed with the idea of taking on her mother's appearance to shake him up, but Hope wasn't that cruel.

"Maybe I'll give it a go," Hope contemplated, more to herself than to Hermione as the last of the cookies were slid into the oven. "I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen?"

"Well, you could _poison_ Remus," Hermione pointed out and Mrs. Granger's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"I'm sure that's rather _minor,"_ Hope retorted, remarkably unconcerned about the possibility.

Hermione laughed.

* * *

It was positively frigid when Hope bundled herself up and made her way outside with axe in mittened hands. She was still working her ways through the paperwork that Mindy had piled in front of her, though it had more to do with her avoiding it than there being a large amount of it.

So, Hope had made her way out of the manor after lunch that day in order to chop down a tree at the edge of the forest. They weren't low on firewood, and even if they were, Hope was sure Mindy would've had that matter rectified in a matter of moments, but Hope needed to clear her head, and this was her best choice.

Hope took a swing and buried the axe's blade into the bark, again and again.

The wind whistled through the trees as the sunlight cast a glow over the Potter Lands, and slowly, ever so slowly, her headache from staring at small words for so long slowly eased.

Her breath came out as fog as the flurries came down from the sky.

She liked it better at home than at school. Hogwarts as a structure wasn't something she really had a problem with, in fact, she might've even liked it, if not for the people. People like Snape, and Dumbledore, and Marcus Flint that made her spell the curtains around her bed against intruders each night and be extra careful about where she stepped.

There was a loud snap above her and Hope looked up quickly in order to see a branch dropping over her head and Hope had to lunge into the snow in order to avoid being hit.

The snow was icy against her face as she twisted to look back at where she'd been standing, where the branch was embedded in the snow like a roughly carved spear that had just missed its mark.

After that Hope didn't have much of an inclination to chop up any more wood, so she rushed inside and leaned heavily against the door.

Ordinarily, Hope wasn't very clumsy, she didn't really have that luxury. If there was one thing that Mindy had ingrained in her, it was that no matter her age, she was still Heir Potter and she represented the Potter family, even in the singular, and heiress' couldn't be seen as clumsy.

Walking in heels had been a hard enough skill to master, but Hope was certain she hadn't tripped in months, not until Hogwarts. She couldn't blame Hogwarts itself, but there was something…off about the place…someone off. Hope couldn't really explain it, it was more feeling than factual.

Hope ran a hand through her hair before pulling the coat free to hang on the rack by the door, walking past the sitting room as Remus called: "Back so soon?"

"It didn't agree with me," Hope called back as she made her way towards the library, unaware of the befuddled expression on Remus' face as she did so.

"Crystals, crystals," she muttered to herself, taking the short staircase up to the second landing, looking through the titles until she found the one she was looking for, and then she pulled it out and flip to the page.

Morea had a section on the use of crystals in spells, but there wasn't very much to it and Hope assumed that either she hadn't had much of an interest in the art, or she'd left it to another book in the series that Salazar claimed she'd written.

Crystals, as it turned out, were rather good at absorbing curses and then purifying them, and Hope was just about certain that someone had put a curse on her, the question of who, though, that was still up for debate.

She trailed her finger down the page, eyes running over the ingredients before walking down the stairs and moving towards the main staircase to lead the way up to her room and Remus stopped trying to comprehend why she was rushing about.

There was a chest of a variety of gemstones that Hope had found in the attic (though, she was certain she could have found the same type of stones in one of her vaults at Gringotts) that she couldn't help but wonder if it was another of Dorea Black's keepsakes, as it had been strategically placed a bit too close to the chest of books from the Black Family Library that Hope had seen before when she'd been looking for ornaments the previous year, and it was from that chest that Hope grabbed a clear, quartz obelisk, not very large, but neither very small, and thus perfect for the spell.

It took her a few more moments to reach the potions room, and this time Remus didn't even look up from the paper he was regarding with interest as she ambled past.

Hope had hardly been in the potions room since she and her friends had concluded their classes with Remus that summer. There had simply been other things of interest to keep her away.

Bottles and flasks of varying sizes and shapes were mounted on the shelves, some with crumbling leaves or powders, others with suspiciously thick solutions, and some with marked names on them stating what type of potion they were.

Hope sat the book on the stand on the counter before making her way around the room, grabbing what little she needed: a mortar and pestle, a separate bowl, a stoppered jug of water, and respective bottles full of betony petals, dried nettles, rosemary, and yarrow flowers.

She poured a good bit of water into the bowl before measuring out the appropriate amount of dried nettles, rosemary, yarrow, and betony into the mortar, beginning to grind it all together with the pestle.

Nettles were sometimes used in the type of magical potions that Hope brewed at school, but it wasn't an inherently magical herb, and mixing magical and non-magical potion ingredients didn't usually end up well (luckily nettles appeared to be rather neutral in that aspect, or Hope was sure that something might have exploded).

Hope twisted the pestle around a few more times for good measure, grinding the contents together one last time before dumping the contents into the bowl, using a stirring rod to disperse the mixture a bit more evenly throughout the fluid before dropping the piece of quartz within, watching with a bit of interest as the gem gleamed as though light was shining down on it, which was similar to the description of the result that the mixed herbs and water should've had happen, since it was designed to purify the crystal dipped within.

She lifted the crystal up holding it easily in her hand, glancing back to the book with an arched eyebrow. Incantation phrases were more common with other kinds of magic than with the spells Hope used at school or with her Earth Magick, but the first incantation was rather simple, and the second one wasn't much longer.

" _Curse unseen and unbidden_

_Appear, so it shall be unwritten."_

As she finished reciting, a feeling like ice crept up her spine to flow down her fingers and then beyond them to the crystal, and a blackness appeared to spread within the crystal until it turned it completely from clear to black.

Hope's eyebrows drew together. The confirmation that she had indeed been cursed wasn't comforting in the slightest.

She tightened her grip on the crystal and began the next incantation.

" _With this magic verse_

_I turn around this wicked curse._

_As these words of mine are spoken_

_Let this evil spell be broken."_

And the blackness within faded, leaving the crystal sitting rather unassuming in her hand.

* * *

"So, what exactly is the plan for Christmas Day?" Remus inquired one night while Hope was scrawling out an essay for Charms, determined to finish her homework before Christmas came so she'd have more time to do other things.

He was sitting in the armchair in the sitting room as they were bathed in the warmth and light of the fire flickering in the fireplace, while Hope was nestled on the floor, swathed with enough blankets to cocoon her yet somehow managing to keep her arms unhindered as she wrote. There was a tray sitting beside her bearing a teapot and teacup, the tea half drunk.

Somehow Hope had gotten rather into pomegranate tea, something she'd picked up when she'd been out shopping with Aggie, and Remus had hardly seen her not drinking it…but, then again, she also appeared to like the pomegranate seeds.

And somehow Remus was almost certain Thanatos was to blame. Remus liked to blame the god for some of Hope's odd habits, though liking pomegranate was remarkably mild considering her usual.

"They'll be by after breakfast…around eight Thalia said," Hope replied, pausing in her writing in order to recall exactly what had been agreed on. "Galen and Aggie want to ice skate so after we do the presents and get the food ready for lunch, we're going to go skating on the lake…Dianthe's a pretty good ice skater, I think."

She furrowed her brow. Hope didn't know very much about Galen's girlfriend, but if he liked her as much as he said he did, then she didn't mind allowing her within her wards.

"Dianthe has to be a siren to have put up with him so long," Aggie had grinned widely.

"Didn't Sirens kill their victims?" Hope had inquired.

"Well, yeah, but _you know what I mean!"_

Dianthe was very familiar with the Blackwoods, but she'd never met Hope before, and Hope had never met her before, so it was bound to be an experience.

"Have you ever ice skated before?" Remus inquired, almost faintly amused.

Colour dusted across Hope's cheeks. "How hard can it be?" she grumbled to herself, getting the distinct feeling that she was going to be eating her words sooner rather than later.

* * *

Hope hadn't thought very much about the book on mirrors she had looked through days earlier before Mindy had carted her off into violin practice, it was something that had slipped her mind for the time being.

But the idea of mirrors being gateways was almost too interesting not to consider, and it led Hope to stand before the floor length mirror that was mounted on her wall, her considering expression reflected.

She'd had a different mirror before, one that liked to voice its opinions rather loudly, but it had annoyed her far too much, so it had been exiled to the attic, with a sheet tossed over it to keep it from speaking every time something moved where its reflection could be seen.

Hope hadn't found any spells related to mirrors, not even in the book she'd found, which was a bit annoying, if you asked Hope.

A few steps were taken closer until Hope's nose was almost touching the surface, and then she raised a finger in order to tap it against the surface of the mirror, only to jolt when it rippled like gentle waves on the water under her touch.

Then she tapped it a second time and nothing happened.

That only served to make her annoyed as she raised her hands to shake them aggressively at the mirror.

" _Make up your mind!"_ Hope complained, only to jump at the sound of a book falling to the floor, and she looked over to her desk to see where Salazar Slytherin's journal had fallen.

She shook off her surprise, taking a few steps toward the desk in order to lean down and lift the book off the ground.

Hope hadn't had much time to read it since she, Daphne, and Hermione had started at Hogwarts. And she hadn't gotten very far in, what she'd learned about Adrian and his madness had come from Thanatos…there wasn't anything in the journal following the murder of Morea, Nelda, Damian, and Adrian. Hope had assumed that Salazar hadn't really wanted to put pen to paper after nearly his whole line was expunged.

She flipped absently through the pages thick with writings and sketches of places Hope was unfamiliar with and she almost put it down again, but her eyes caught something that was too dark and too chaotic.

Hope turned the next page slowly, her eyebrows raising high on her forehead.

The spread of two pages was dominated by a smear of dark ink across the pages like Salazar had upended the contents of his inkwell onto the pages.

" _What the—"_ Hope started to say, severely startled only to be interrupted by a pair of hands so pale the veins were so starkly blue and Hope wasn't surprised in the slightest to look up and see the kind face of Thanatos as he pressed his cold hands to hers in order to shut the book.

"What is that supposed to be?" Hope asked, not even remarking on his sudden appearance.

"That, dearest," Thanatos said with a heavy sigh, "is the tragedy of Adrian Slytherin."

And then he left as suddenly as he'd come, and, as always, Hope was left vaguely unnerved by his cryptic words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrian's tale is important to the story and it will come to light at some point, and it is very tragic and in some ways very similar to Hope's own.
> 
> Hope has a lot of difficulties playing the part of the heiress when she's still a kid, she finds it very annoying, but she'll grow into it.
> 
> Two guesses who cursed Hope ;)
> 
> And the plan is to give you guys an update on Christmas days, so be sure to give the chapter a lot of love!


	15. Family Celebrations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many good guesses about who cursed Hope, and what the tragedy of Adrian actually is, but I promise the second one is far more interesting than the first, though you won't find out for a number of chapters. It probably won't really come to light until book two, but don't quote me on that.
> 
> And the mirror business is something that will be elaborated on eventually and its nothing like the wardrobe into Narnia, this fic is complicated enough with Greek mythology.
> 
> There is a Wizarding nobles club of sorts in this chapter that is based off the Golden Fleece which was a product of the combined genius of fic writers Ell Roche and ExcentrykeMuse, so they get the creation credit.
> 
> Merry Christmas! I hope you all have a wonderful day!

Albus Dumbledore had felt uneasy months ago when he'd discovered the Invisibility Cloak was gone, but now he couldn't help but be even more so.

Somehow Hope had gotten her father's cloak, he was certain of it, because he'd once walked past her while he himself was invisible and used his own spell to reveal her presence, albeit briefly.

He didn't like to think of how that was possible, especially since it had been locked away, but none of his enchantments had been broken. It was as though the cloak had vanished itself, an idea that was altogether mad…unless someone stronger than Dumbledore had taken it, though Dumbledore couldn't imagine who or how.

Dumbledore looked directly behind his desk to where the four founders slept on within their frames, perpetually, and his eyes fixed on Salazar Slytherin. But the portrait betrayed nothing.

He turned away and didn't see how the pale eyes opened and narrowed.

* * *

Dianthe Floros had never been somewhere as impressive as Potter Manor. The Blackwood Estate was more rustic than anything else, but she didn't think it was quite as large.

She tightened her scarf where it was fixed over her mouth as she walked through the snow. She knew from Galen of his cousin's paranoia, of course, if she'd been the Girl-Who-Lived –a name that was famous even in _Greece_ – she'd want to be sure that no one she didn't like could get to her home.

It was a very long walk from the road inwards through the frost and snow crusted grass, enough to make Dianthe wish for sturdier boots, because with each passing moment, her toes were getting colder and colder.

But the Potter lands were beautiful, though she supposed in the cusp of spring, summer, and even autumn, they were just as _breathtaking_. There were so many trees and sloping hills…it was like the manor itself was hidden within the forest, but that didn't stop the manor itself from being lovely when at last Dianthe caught sight of it.

It was bigger than the Blackwood Estate, looking almost like a French chateau but with Greek pillars on the carved porch, shielding it from the elements, and there seemed to be many rooms, if the windows were to be believed, with snow-capping the roof.

Like it was right out of a _fairytale._

She drew her scarf away from her mouth as she lifted a hand to raise one of the bronze lion-head knockers to knock down against the door.

It took a few moments, but then the door was opened and Dianthe had to look down in order to see who had opened it.

The House-elf wearing what could have only been the Potter crest gave her a look over and said: "How did Miss get past the wards?"

Dianthe's lips curled into a smile even though her cheeks were practically frozen. "I believe I was recently added to them," she said, before elaborating further, "I'm Dianthe Floros, Galen Blackwood's girlfriend…I'm coming over tomorrow with the others."

The House-elf nodded in understanding.

"I came by because I wanted to introduce myself to Hope before tomorrow," Dianthe added and the House-elf relented, parting the door to allow her inside at the sound of a dulled explosion, and the House-elf's eyes went wide and she disappeared as soon as the door was shut with a call of _"Mistress Hope!"_

"Just a minor explosion," came a voice overhead as a small figure descended with a few harsh coughs with the House-elf trailing after her, giving Dianthe the first view of Hope Potter, and she didn't know quite what she'd expected.

An eleven year old girl with hair a color of deep red, and soot spread across half her face.

"The magical and non-magical herbs kind of mixed together," Hope muttered, "don't worry, it's not serious, I just need a wet clo… _th…"_

Hope paused two steps before hitting the ground level, taking in the girl standing in the foyer, from her blonde curls to the stains on her fingers from potion ingredients.

"You must be Dianthe Floros," Hope said before frowning at her, "I thought you weren't supposed to show up until tomorrow? Or have I been up all night?" She appeared mildly perturbed at the thought, but not altogether surprised.

"No," Dianthe laughed lightly, "it's still Christmas Eve. I just wanted to come by first and introduce myself, since, you know, we've never _met."_

Hope snorted and the House-elf handed her young mistress a damp cloth and Hope scrubbed viciously at her face and when she pulled back, her face was red but there was remarkably less soot.

Then she held out her hand. "Hope Potter, I'm not sure if they've mentioned me much—"

Dianthe laughed as she took her hand. "Aggie's over the moon about you. Her best friend is more into healing that the Ancient Arts, you might be the first person that she's met with the same interests."

Hope's cheeks flushed pink, but she beamed. "It's probably the first time a cousin of mine has actually liked me," she responded cheekily and Dianthe almost thought it was a joke, but there was something in her eyes that made her think different. "Of course," Hope added, "we're barely related as it is…very, _very_ distant cousins, but I don't think any of us mind calling each other cousins."

Dianthe gave her a smile. "Just wait until they give you a nickname."

Hope laughed. "My name has four letters, I doubt you can make a nickname from _that."_

"You'd be surprised," Dianthe chuckled.

"Do you like tea?" Hope asked her as the blonde pulled the zipper of her coat down and Hope gestured towards the hooks next to the doors. "Or hot chocolate? We have both."

"Hot chocolate, if you don't mind, thank you," Dianthe said as she followed after the younger witch.

"Mindy," Hope called loudly, "can you bring a hot chocolate and a cup of pomegranate tea to the sitting room?"

"My caretaker, Remus Lupin, is out at the moment," Hope added as they entered the sitting room, allowing Dianthe to admire the Christmas tree in the corner with its ornaments and baubles adorning the branches, several presents already underneath. The fire blazing in the fireplace flooded the room with warmth as they both sat down on one of the couches.

"You don't seem like the type that really needs a caretaker," Dianthe couldn't help but mention.

Hope gave a half-shrug. "He was one of my dad's friends…that and he worries about me being on my own with just Mindy, so he's become my kind of live-in minder."

Dianthe could see the faint outline of Hope's lightning shaped scar where it was on her forehead. It was strange to think something like that, a scar, made it clear who she was to anyone that knew her story.

Mindy balanced the tray bearing a mug of steaming hot chocolate, a teacup of Hope's favorite tea and a teapot, setting it between them.

"Galen says you're a potioneer," Hope mentioned after she took a drink from her teacup, not as refined as Dianthe had been expecting with the quality of her dress and the size of the manor she lived in.

"Yes," Dianthe smiled at the mention of her job before taking a gulp of her hot chocolate, "I always liked it…it was probably the only thing that kept me sane at the orphanage."

Green eyes cast towards her. "You're an orphan?"

"My mother died in childbirth and my father died a few months before I was born," Dianthe explained. "Being accepted into Athene Academy was probably the most surprising thing that happened to me, apart from Galen, of course." Her eyes turned fond at the mention of her boyfriend.

"After my parents died, I was sent off to my mother's sister's family," Hope offered, her lips twisting downwards. "I ran away when I was ten and came here." She gestured around to the manor as a whole.

"Talk about an upgrade," Dianthe chuckled.

"Well, I was living in a cupboard under the stairs and now I have my own room, so that's always nice."

Dianthe got the feeling she wasn't joking.

"You wouldn't want to help me with a potion, would you?" Hope asked her suddenly, eyes glittering.

* * *

It wasn't unusual for Remus to come home to Potter Manor to hear laughter, but that was generally only when Daphne or Hermione was around.

"Oh my _gods,_ you're not _serious!"_ Hope's voice could be heard in the direction of the potion's room. "What a complete _dork_! I didn't think he had it in him!"

"It was so sad, because the orphanage had a curfew that I had to turn him down," a second voice laughed with her. "He looked so put out until I asked him if he wanted to do it on Saturday instead."

"And somehow you two are still together," Hope snorted. " _Impressive."_

Remus peered into the room curiously to see Hope within with a blonde-haired girl of fifteen, her curls pulled back into a loose bun as they both hovered over a cauldron that was smoking ominously.

He gave a polite knock. "Do I want to know what you're up to, Hope?"

Hope cast a grin back while the blonde-haired girl jumped in surprise. "If you did, then it wouldn't be much of a surprise."

Remus arched an eyebrow.

"This is Dianthe Floros," Hope added for good measure, nodding towards her unfamiliar companion. "She's Galen's girlfriend."

"Ah," Remus said in understanding, extending the hand that wasn't clutching his cane (it wasn't a very good day for his leg) and the girl took it easily. "Hello."

"Hello," Dianthe said with an easy smile. "You must be…Remus?" She spoke his name carefully, just to make sure it was coming out correctly.

"Remus Lupin," he agreed before considering her strangely. "I thought you weren't coming over until—"

"Oh, I am," she offered quickly before Hope took over.

"Dianthe just dropped by to say hello," Hope interjected, flashing a grin towards the blonde, "and give me some advice on a potion."

"What potion?" Remus inquired curiously, looking from girl to girl and then to the bubbling potion, and then to the potion's book propped open on the stand, but, as though coordinated, Hope and Dianthe moved so that they were each positioned in front of either the book or the cauldron.

" _It's a surprise!"_ Hope nearly whined, stamping her foot to the floor with emphasis. "Don't ruin it, Remus!"

And the werewolf laughed as the potion was set to simmer overnight and Hope locked the door with a furtive look shot in his direction before escorting Dianthe to the door with a 'thank you' and a smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

* * *

It was late into the night and Hope wasn't asleep, something that was hardly surprising. Hope had a tendency to have late nights and early mornings, especially since Salazar preferred teaching her about Earth Magick when no one else was around –contrary to Hermione's opinion that he merely was avoiding being in her presence, as the only Muggle-born in the group– which generally resulted in Hope being an early riser.

She'd liked roaming around Hogwarts in the dead of night, it was more fun that way; there were less students and teachers to avoid. Of course, there were always the patrols to consider, but patrols had a schedule to them and it had only taken Hope a few weeks of creeping around in the dead of night to figure out which floors were being patrolled and at what times.

Hope may not have liked Hogwarts as much as she did Potter Manor, but she couldn't deny that there was a kind of intrigue with Hogwarts that didn't exist very much with Potter Manor, though she'd be the first to admit that even she hadn't seen all of Potter Manor; many of the rooms remained untouched and undisturbed. But with Hogwarts, everything was an unknown, even with the map she and the girls were working on making, because, really, the castle was far too big for them not to need one from time to time.

Daphne had taken a secret passage to Charms class only to lose track of it somewhere on the seventh floor. Hermione had gotten a bit lost behind a tapestry on her way to lunch. And Hope had ended up debating very loudly with Elizabeth Burke's portrait about each of their views on Pure-blood Supremacy, which Hope thought was a bit ridiculous, only to find out that the portrait housed a passageway that lead down to the dungeons from the first floor landing of the Grand Staircase.

Hope glanced over the draft of their map of Hogwarts that she and the girls had drawn up prior to leaving for break. She'd meant to show it to Remus right when she got home, but she'd stuffed the plans into her Earth Magick book and had promptly forgotten about it.

The cauldron full of Wolfsbane Potion was simmering and giving off faint blue smoke in a rather eerie fashion, but according to the potions book –and Dianthe– that was normal.

She didn't usually spend her nights in the potions room, but since she was actually working on a potion, it wasn't a bad place to just sit in.

The scent of herbs lingered in the air and Hope didn't really mind it, it wasn't as though it was an overpowering smell as she sat in the uncomfortable stool and flipped through the yellowed pages of Morea's book.

Salazar felt that she'd mastered about a quarter of it, and that was being generous, Hope thought. Everything to do with Earth Magick was as fascinating to her as it had been the first day that she had discovered it.

Of course, she felt that her magical core had strengthened significantly during the lessons Salazar taught her. The magical core was an idea that was almost entirely based on the fact that every magical child was born with a sort of source to their magic that grew and strengthened as that child did. Not exercising it properly usually ended disastrously. It wasn't something brought up in casual conversation, but Salazar had explained that there was a reason that classes were formulated the way they were.

Besides, Salazar had all but banned her from using any magic he deemed above her level. Hope would've been a bit more irritated of that if she hadn't used that shield charm during that difficulty during that incident with the troll, which went to show that if you used a spell out of your depth, you'd end up in deep water pretty quick.

Hope had learned that lesson and she tended to stick with the chapters towards the front of the book. When Salazar deemed her skill great enough, though, she was going to hand the book off to Aggie. Aggie had been asking her about it for awhile, and Hope knew that she was as fascinated about the Ancient Arts as Hope was…and as a descendent of Morea Avis, she had as much right to the book as Hope did, Hope just happened to find the book first.

Her eyes trailed over the worn pages, over the words and images that Morea had painstakingly written and sketched in a delicate hand, and she couldn't help but think of the black mass at the end of Salazar's journal and wonder.

* * *

Christmas was always fun, of course, George might've liked to spend it at the Burrow just a bit more, but Hogwarts wasn't that bad. True, it didn't have the same home-cooked meals that his mother made or the cramped space that made the warmth of the flames in the rickety fireplace ever-present, but it wasn't that bad.

He and Fred woke up first and didn't bother to wait for their brothers with their own presents at the foot of their bed. There weren't many, but Fred and George had never minded.

They tugged on their Weasley sweaters and chewed on the fudge their mother had sent, ignoring the note that said not to eat it until after breakfast, and it was only when they were almost completely through their presents that George caught sight of an extra present, thin and wrapped in blue.

"Hey, why'd you get a present and I didn't?" Fred frowned as George looked it over with a bit of bemusement.

There wasn't a name to signify who'd sent it, but then he remembered what Hope had said: _"_ _Well, I guess you won't be wanting your_ _present."_

"You don't think Hope _actually_ sent me a present?" he said, looking to Fred and watching the realization dawn on his face, but then he eyed it suspiciously.

"I thought that was a _joke,"_ Fred responded dubiously. "You don't think its cursed or anything?"

"I think Hope's a bit more original than that," George conceded a bit wryly before ripping the wrapping aside to reveal a thin box and when he opened it, the first thing he saw was a loose piece of parchment.

" _Since we have a truce,"_ George read out loud for Fred's benefit, _"here's how to make the pranks we used on you this term –Hope."_

A pair of ginger heads looked into the box to find parchments of scribbled words, incantations and potion ingredients and the like.

"Next time I see her, I'm going to kiss her," Fred decided with a bit of awe.

"I think Angelina might not like that as much," George snorted.

* * *

The snow was falling thickly when Hope awoke the next morning, her hair a mess of tangles from a fitful sleep as she stared blearily towards the window.

The window that was not with its curtains pulled back when she had gone to sleep early that morning.

" _Mindy!"_ Hope complained loudly and the house-elf appeared at her bedside.

"Yes, Mistress?"

Hope dropped a fist against the fluffy pillow beside her head, glaring at the ceiling. "Did you open those curtains?"

"Yes, Mistress," Mindy said in a rather unrepentant manner which greatly irritated Hope.

" _Why_ , Mindy? _Why?"_ Hope complained, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes only to yelp in surprise as the blankets were yanked off. _"Mindy!"_

"Mistress needs to get up," Mindy pressed. "It's Christmas and Mistress needs to get dressed before Mistress' cousins show up."

It was times like these that Hope regretted staying up late into the night.

" _Fine,"_ she grumbled, pulling herself out of the bed in order to grab some clothes that made Mindy click her tongue slightly, though still maintaining her silence despite not liking denim for an heiress, but Hope was going ice-skating later, and it was _cold._

In a short amount of time Hope was clean and dressed, her hair short and red and her eyes as blue as Aggie's. Retrospectively, Hope realized that she could've looked like Aggie's twin.

"Merry Christmas, Remus!" she called when she descended the stairs almost right after him and he turned back slightly in order to smile and bring an arm up to rest around her shoulders.

"Merry Christmas," he said, echoing her words as they came into the sitting room where the Christmas tree was set up, presents settled beneath its branches. There were several there, some for Hope's friends, some for the Blackwoods, and one for Remus, as Hope's couldn't have fit under the tree if he'd squeezed it.

Remus sat down heavily on the couch with a wince, and Hope cast an eye over him.

"You know…peppermint would be good for that leg," Hope mentioned lightly. "Or Devil's Claw."

Remus gave her a wry smile. "It's not so bad," he said, but Hope didn't quite believe him. She still brought his gift to him and sat down beside him as he carefully tore the wrappings from the gift.

He smiled at the book on Dark creatures that he had debated about buying the past week when he and Hope had been out shopping. "You didn't have to," he said and Hope gave him a quelling look that could've come from Lily.

"It was either that or a placard that said Professor R.J. Lupin. I flipped a coin."

Remus couldn't help but laugh. "It's perfect, Hope, thank you."

Hope grinned before clapping her hands together excitedly. "What about mine?"

"You'll have to wait until your cousins come by, since they were partially involved," he said, amused by how much her face fell. "Don't look so down, Hope, they'll be here in less than an hour."

"Still," Hope grumbled, slumping back against the couch. "I'm not very patient."

How could James' daughter be any less?

* * *

It was freezing and Aggie automatically _hated_ Wales. It never got this cold in Greece, but then Greece was a bit further down. But even at its coldest, she'd only had to wear a jacket, yet here she needed to wear a full coat in order to keep from freezing to death.

"Why is it so _cold?"_ she grumbled into her scarf as the group trudged up to the manor. "Why couldn't we've taken the _Floo."_

"Because," Thalia said with an amused smile, unwavering in the cold weather, "it would do you good to know how to find Hope's place from the road. We're nearly there."

Dianthe's eyes glittered as she kept her arm looped at the crook of Galen's elbow, all too familiar with Aggie's muffled complaints as her boyfriend rolled his eyes towards her when they made it to the porch in order to bang the knocker.

The door flew open almost immediately and Hope's grinning face was framed in the doorway. She looked a bit different from the day previous, but Galen had mentioned that she was a Metamorphmagus, so that explained the change in hair and eye color. She could've been Aggie's twin sister.

"You're almost late!" Hope said, still grinning, only to laugh as Aggie threw her arms around her.

" _Warmth!"_ Aggie declared, pressing her icy cheek against Hope's, making the girl squirm away as the Blackwoods (and one Floros) piled into the foyer gratefully, bag swaying dangerously on an arm. "Why do you live _so far out?_ It's _ridiculous!"_

"The Potter Lands stretch for miles." Hope gave a helpless shrug. "And I guess they were a bit _paranoid_ about people getting through the wards."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Galen said dryly as he shrugged off his cut and hung it on the rack before helping Dianthe with hers.

" _Oi!"_ Hope complained. "This is _my_ house!"

"It's not really a house, if we're being perfectly honest," Galen pointed out and Hope pushed at his arm with a scowl while Dianthe and Thalia laughed and Aggie snorted loudly.

"Dianthe, really, how can you put up with an old sod like this?" Hope appealed to the blonde of the group.

Dianthe appraised her boyfriend. "I like to think he has some redeemable qualities."

An outraged expression morphed onto Galen's face. " _Dia!_ How can you _say_ that! I thought you _loved_ me!"

Dianthe made a 'so-so' gesture with her hand and Galen looked positively heartbroken as his family laughed around him.

"Come on," Hope curled her fingers towards them in a 'come hither' sort of gesture, "Remus' waiting in the sitting room. Mindy can take the food."

Mindy the house-elf appeared in a single moment and the Blackwoods tried not to be surprised by her appearance, because even they were from an old family, they didn't have the same luxury as Hope to have a house-elf, though that wasn't very uncommon in Greece.

Mindy took the bag from Thalia before disappearing in what could only be assumed was the direction of the kitchen.

Aggie moved quickly in order to fling herself onto the floor right in front of the fire, much to the amusement of her family, warming her hands by the fire.

Hope rolled her eyes as the others greeted Remus where he was sitting.

"Remus, darling, how are you?" Thalia inquired, coming to sit beside him and Remus blinked, vaguely startled.

"Remarkably well, Thalia, and you?"

Thalia smirked and everyone stared at the pair of them as though they were the strangest thing the world had to offer.

"When we were out to tea our waitress thought we were together," Remus tried to offer an explanation. "Thalia decided the best course of action would be to call me 'darling' very sarcastically."

Hope snorted loudly. "That's _great."_

"You haven't met Aggie or Galen yet," Thalia added as Hope pulled her presents from under the tree in order to hand them out to her cousins, aunt, and one for Dianthe.

"Hi!" Aggie said brightly from the floor, grinning widely at him while Galen gave a mock salute.

"Aggie, you're going to burn yourself," Galen warned.

"No, I'm _not!"_

Listening to the brother and sister pair berate each other brought a smile to Hope's face even as Dianthe said: "You didn't need to get me anything, Hope, we've barely met."

"It's a good thing I didn't put much thought into it, then." Hope's eyes glittered, turning hazel just briefly before returning to the same blue they'd been when she'd answered the door and Dianthe unveiled a silver knife with her initials engraved close to the hilt.

Dianthe's smile softened. "Not much thought, _hm?"_

Hope smirked as Thalia held out a slender wrapped gift to Remus, much to his surprise. And he pulled the packaging aside in order to see a desk wedge bearing the name _Professor R.J. Lupin._

His lips twisted and he mouthed a thank you to Thalia, who inclined her head slightly with a smile of her own.

"Nice, Hope!" Galen waved the new wand holster with a grin. He might've mentioned he was thinking about getting a new one to Aggie, who had then passed the information along to Hope.

Hope plopped down to sit in front of Aggie while Thalia admired her gift of small black pearl earrings enchanted to protect against minor poisons.

Aggie had pulled free several leafs of parchment across which the words of the first two chapters of Morea's book had been copied, bound together rather haphazardly. She frowned in befuddlement. "What's this?"

"Well, you wanted to learn about Earth Magick, right?" Hope asked and it really was something else to see Aggie's face positively light up. Not many people actually approved of the art, and much less were excited about the prospect of learning it. "I didn't want to give you the whole book, you know, since _I_ haven't finished it yet. But when I'm through, it's all yours."

The breath was thrust out of her chest suddenly as Aggie threw her arms around Hope once more, tight enough to bruise her ribs. "Thank you, _thank you!_ It's _perfect!_ It makes my gift look like nothing…"

"Oh, shut up," Hope laughed, "I told you that you didn't have to get me anything!"

But she still took the small package that Aggie extended to her, unwrapping the present and smiling. It was a beaded bracelet with a single bronze charm in the shape of the pentagram.

"They're a pair," Aggie said, lifting her own wrist when Hope slid the bracelet onto her own. "Cool, huh?"

"Pretty sweet," Hope agreed.

"Now it's your turn."

Hope blinked in surprise. She'd almost forgotten that there was a gift that they were all conspiring on, and she only remembered when Galen dropped his hands over her eyes. _"Oh, come on!"_

"I don't think you really _have_ to blindfold her," Remus chuckled off to the side as a pair of hands, smaller and smoother than Galen's –Aggie's she presumed–, helped pull her into a standing position. "She already knows its outside."

"It's more of the principle of the matter!"

"Gal, you're going to make her walk into something if you're not careful," Dianthe mentioned while Thalia chuckled, at least, it sounded as though it was Thalia chuckling, but Hope couldn't really be sure with her eyes covered.

"Babe, I've got this covered," Galen assured her.

"That doesn't make me feel better," Hope felt the need to point out.

"Your opinion doesn't really matter at this point," Galen said wryly.

" _Galen,"_ Thalia spoke her son's name with a loud sigh.

" _What?_ I'm just saying it like it is!"

Hope would've rolled her eyes if they'd been open, but she settled for a rather exaggerated pout.

"What way are we going?" Aggie asked loudly before things to devolve any further.

"Allow me," Remus' tired voice mentioned and Hope frowned briefly. Remus had been very tired lately, and Hope couldn't help but think the full moon had taken more out of him than usual. The winter months were the worst, she knew from the previous year. Of course, none of the full moons were very good for him, but it was at least a bit easier in the summertime.

A worn and calloused hand reached out and took her hand. "Are you ready?"

"You aren't going to let me run into anything, are you?" Hope asked with a grin, arching an eyebrow against Galen's hand.

"I'll do my best not to," he promised with a soft chuckle, squeezing her hand and leading her forward with difficulty as Galen stumbled around behind her, trying not to trip over her and keeping his hands firmly over her eyes, even though Hope thought it was just a bit much.

"Are you all right with stepping outside in what you're wearing?" Remus asked her suddenly. "I didn't think about that…"

Hope was still wearing her boots, and she was wearing a jumper, so it wasn't as though she was stepping out into the cold with no shoes and no sleeves.

"As long as it's not that long," Hope said decisively and there was a click of the back door and Hope was hit with a blast of cold air. It almost made her change her mind, stumbling after Remus in the snow to what she was almost completely sure to be the greenhouse…but what was so special about the greenhouse? Hope hadn't spent hardly any time in the greenhouse since their lessons had concluded that spring.

It was humid when Remus managed to pull her inside the greenhouse, which was a relief.

"I hope you lot didn't mess up my greenhouse," she mentioned lightly as they moved through an aisle, which made it a bit difficult for Galen to keep his hands over her eyes, but evidently he was up to the challenge.

"Not too much." She could hear the grin in Remus' voice and it made her scowl as they passed through something that felt uncommonly as though they'd walked through a thick spider web.

"All right," Remus said a moment later and the weight over her eyes lifted, though she kept her eyes closed. "You can open your eyes now."

Hope opened them slowly, blinking a few times in the light in order to look around the greenhouse, but it looked rather unfamiliar to her, with a lack of magical plants. Nothing within had razor sharp leaves or vines threatening to strangle you, which might've explained why Hope hadn't come back to the greenhouse in awhile.

"I had it expanded," Remus explained helpfully, "there's a separation between this part and the magical plants since you said it wasn't very good to mix those two…the Blackwoods helped me with the seeds and the dirt."

"Remus had most of it done when we helped out," Thalia pointed out with a wry smile, "we just gave him a few pointers and seeds."

Hope played with the leaves of a peppermint plant, silent for a moment before she looked back to them, beaming impossibly wide.

"It's perfect," she said and she meant it.

There was an entire section in Morea's book on potions made with non-magical plants but were no less magical than their counterparts, and Hope had bemoaned rather loudly that they didn't have a greenhouse for non-magical plants and since it was the only thing Hope had really asked for, there wasn't much space for Remus to go wrong.

The section of the greenhouse was large and there were small signs stabbed into the dirt to tell what each plant was if she couldn't recognize them, but Hope only knew a few of them from memory and appearance.

"It's _wonderful,"_ she added, moving around in a circle to take it all in, her eyes sweeping over the tilled earth, the sprouting plants…it really was absolutely perfect.

* * *

Hope was impatiently waiting for the food to be either cooling under a preservation charm or cooking in the oven, but then all was said and done and all the kids were out the door with their boots on their feet, in the process of fastening their coats on with fumbling fingers tucked inside gloves, holding onto their ice skates as they stumbled over the snow.

Hope's were new, not broken in yet, and she had a lot of doubts about her ability to remain standing on a sheet of ice, but she'd still give it a go.

There was a lake that was a bit further inward into the forest. It wasn't like the banks of the sea, but at least it was more solidly frozen, so that was a plus.

Aggie skidded on ice and squealed before Hope grabbed her arm, laughing as she tugged her in the right direction.

"This place is like a maze," Galen grumbled when they sat down on the broken log at the edge of the lake. "How do you even know where you're going?"

Hope gave him an odd look. "I live here."

Dianthe snorted as Galen rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you know where everything is, then?" Dianthe had finished lacing her ice skates so she stepped onto the ice and began skating around on the ice, helping Aggie stumble onto the ice, but once the skates made it onto the flat surface, she didn't have nearly as much of a difficult time.

"No." Hope rolled her eyes. "But I know where some things are, which is _pretty helpful_ , you know."

Galen chuckled before stepping onto the ice as Hope finished lacing her skates, stood, and promptly fell on her behind. "And here I thought you weren't very clumsy!"

"Galen Erasmus Blackwood," Hope said shortly, resorting to a glare, "standing on skates isn't one of my chief skills, I'll have you know, and _I'm not very clumsy."_

He gave her a look that couldn't have made it clearer that he didn't believe her in the slightest, but he still held out his hands and Hope took them gratefully, allowing him to stabilize her as she stumbled up onto the ice.

Retrospectively it was the worst decision Hope had made since the day had begun.

"Ohmigods, ohmigods, _ohmigods!"_ She clutched frantically to Galen's arm. _"I'm going to die!"_

Galen wasn't the only one laughing, but Hope couldn't really focus on that, she was trying –and failing– to remain upright. "You're not going to die," he admonished, "worst case scenario, you fall on your ass."

Hope cast a venomous glance in his direction. "And you wonder why _Aggie's_ my favorite."

Aggie giggled as she came around to Hope's opposite side, looping her arm through Hope's in order to tear her away from the stability that Galen's arm had provided.

Hope yelped and fell in a single smooth movement, the cold of the ice burning through her jeans to her skin.

But Aggie knelt in her skates with what could've only been practiced ease in order to help Hope to stand once more.

"This is actually worse than I'd originally thought," Hope grumbled and Aggie grinned widely.

"It gets better," was all she said, "once you learn to block out Galen."

Both girls looked to where the boy was spinning in circles around his girlfriend while her peals of laughter pierced the air. Hope thought it was a bit detrimental, because eventually Galen was going to run into Dianthe, skating like that…but that was none of her business.

"Just take it a step at a time," Aggie advised with an easy smile, "you'll be spinning circles around us soon."

"I doubt that," Hope muttered, her feet sliding out from under her control and it bothered her a bit more than she'd been anticipating.

There was nothing more disconcerting than not being able to stand properly, but she allowed herself to be pulled along gently by Aggie as frigid wind brushed against their cheeks, turning them pink as they laughed until Galen jeered them into a race that resulted in Hope knocking into Dianthe and both crumpling into a pile.

* * *

"They sound like they're having fun," Thalia mentioned with a smile when she heard the laughter echoing in the air, before pulling the window shut in order to return to where Remus was sitting, reading the newspaper. "You, not so much."

Remus cast a glance to her over the top of the paper. "I'm an old man, Thalia."

" _Poppycock,"_ Thalia said, grinning with the use of the word, "you're not that old, Remus."

He arched an eyebrow. Thalia was older than him, though only by a few years.

"Is it the transformations?" Thalia asked curiously as she sat down beside him once more. "Are they getting harder?"

"They're always difficult in the winter," Remus sighed, folding the Daily Prophet up once more; it wasn't as though there was anything of particular importance in the news that day. "My transformation was two weeks ago, but I still feel exhausted."

"Maybe you've been having a bad two weeks," Thalia suggested and he arched an eyebrow. "I'm just saying that _maybe_ it isn't your lycanthropy that's exhausted you so much, maybe it's something else, maybe your body's fighting off an infection, maybe it's something else, who knows."

Thalia looked over him with a calculating eye. His face was as scarred as it had been when she'd first met him, but the cheeks had a pale undertone that were faintly flushed, almost as though he had a fever.

"Your body might respond to illness differently because of your lycanthropy," she conceded.

Remus frowned thoughtfully and the pair descended into a comfortable silence with the smell of the food cooking in the air and the warmth of the fire spreading over them.

"Aggie wants to spend the night," Thalia confided after a few moments had passed and Remus, whose mind had begun to wander, forced his attention back to her once more.

"Does she?" Remus asked in surprise.

He knew that Hope liked her, of course, it wasn't as though there were many young witches or wizards that Hope was friends with that had an actual interest in Earth Magick. Hermione and Daphne had never really expressed an interest in learning it, though it being a magic that was in a grey area probably didn't help matters, but Remus didn't think Daphne at least cared about that sort of classification. And if one of them was going to be interested in Earth Magick, it was probably going to be Daphne.

"Would you mind too terribly if she did?" Thalia asked him.

"Wouldn't it be more up to you?" Remus pointed out. "She is your daughter, and you don't know me or Hope as well."

"I think I know Hope just a bit better than I know you, to be honest." Her eyes glittered and Remus tried very hard not to roll his eyes. There was something about her that made him think that if Lily had still been alive, she would've liked Thalia very much.

Thalia who was firm and open and trusting as she was suspicious and careful. It hadn't taken very long for him to discover her character; she wore it exposed on her sleeve.

"She's probably likely to get into less trouble over here than at home," Thalia admitted a bit sheepishly.

"That's _very_ comforting," Remus said dryly and Thalia laughed.

* * *

The Christmas lunch had left them all stuffed, and Aggie had managed to convince her mother and Remus –though, they were relatively open to the idea, so that was a plus– into letting her stay the night, so Hope and Aggie found themselves late into the night lounging around in front of the blazing fire.

"It must be nice to have the place all to yourself," Aggie said, looking around the sitting room. "Potter Manor is _huge!"_

"It's kind of lonely," Hope admitted, "having Remus here is nice, though. I was on my own with Mindy for a little while before he showed up."

Aggie took a sip of her hot chocolate with a soft hum as Hope spread the tarot cards in front of her, allowing her cousin to consider her.

"Hope?"

"Hm?" Hope hummed slightly, her focus still on the cards.

"What d'you believe in?"

Hope's lips turned downwards and a crease formed between her eyebrows. "You mean like the gods?"

"I guess," Aggie said.

"I believe in Death," Hope smirked, "I think it's kind of requirement for us, don't you think?"

Aggie laughed, even though it wasn't really what she meant.

"Eventually everyone dies," Hope continued, "it's not something you can outrun…but I might be sucking up to Grandfather, you never know."

Aggie positively cackled, throwing her long plait over one shoulder. "You're so _terrible!"_

"You know you love me," Hope grinned widely. "Now pick a card! Actually, pick _three_ , that's usually how it goes…"

"Which spread are you doing?" Aggie inquired, furrowing her brow as they both looked to the book on tarot interpretations that Hope had open, lying next to both of them.

Hope frowned briefly, eyes narrowing on the two pages over the list of various three card spreads that could be done. "Mother, father, self," Hope decided a moment later and Aggie gave her an odd look that Hope missed while looking over the page.

Aggie considered the various cards in front of her, before choosing one closer to the left, and then another in the center, before the last in the center of the left, giving them to Hope.

"All right," Hope said, giving a small click of her tongue as she flipped one over, each after the other. "For 'mother' you have the Empress, which represents creation and the maternal spirit, happiness, nurturing in the home…sounds a lot like your mum, to be honest."

Aggie snorted but her smile faded as Hope flipped the second card. "Okay, for 'father' you have the Devil inverted which means…" She consulted the book once more, eyebrows reaching high onto her forehead, making the scar wrinkle just a bit. "True evil, uncontrollable ambition and greed."

"Sounds about right," Aggie said shortly.

She didn't like to think about her father, if Nileas Ganis could even be _considered_ her father, she and Galen thought he'd long since forfeited that right; he'd forfeited it the day he'd walked out on them.

"I'm sure there's a lot of other meanings," Hope offered in what she thought might've been a helpful manner, "this is only really beginning tarot, there's probably a lot of way to interpret it…"

"It's pretty spot on, Hope, don't worry about it."

Hope couldn't help but look a bit awkward, and Aggie could understand why she did, after all, Hope lacked a father too, but that was because he'd been killed, not because he'd forsaken his family. Hope had gotten lucky with having a father that actually wanted her in return.

"What's the last one?" she asked instead, to get both their minds off Nileas Ganis.

And Hope flipped it. "'Self' is Temperance. Balance and patience, and coordination. You have a balanced temperament and views."

"What d'you usually draw for yourself?" Aggie asked curiously as Hope reshuffled the deck to pull out one card of herself.

Hope didn't answer her for a moment in order to choose the card on the top of the deck and flip it over.

"Death," she said with a bit of a sigh. "Of course, it's not really that literal…Death's really just change, but it keeps switching between upright and reversed."

"Do Daphne and Hermione believe in Divination?" Aggie asked as Hope reshuffled the deck and replaced it in the box, shutting the tarot book as she did so.

"Hermione doesn't, or she at least believes in it very little," Hope had to correct herself, "but Daphne's family's from Greece, there's been a Seer in her family before, so she knows better."

Of course, there was nothing wrong with not believing in Divination…with Trelawney as a Divination professor, it was hard to take the subject seriously.

"I'm guessing you believe in Divination," Hope tossed a smirk in Aggie's direction.

"Some of it," Aggie agreed. "But there's a lot of fakers out there, too."

Hope hummed in agreement, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "I think it's interesting…but I don't think it should be the most important thing. It's only a part of Earth Magick."

Aggie flipped through the pages of Morea's book with interest. "This thing is _really_ cool…I can't believe that Morea Avis wrote it all by herself." Her fingers traced over the delicately drawn pictures across the pages.

Hope grinned. "You'll probably have it in a year or so."

Aggie shot her an eager grin before going back to flicking through the pages, allowing Hope's face to settle into a contemplative mask.

"Hey, Aggie?" she inquired.

"Hm?" Aggie gave a soft hum to indicate that she was still listening.

"Does Grandfather visit you lot often?"

That made Aggie glance up before returning her attention to the pages. "You mean Thanatos? From time to time, yeah…why?"

"Does he give you cryptic advice?" Hope had to ask, and Aggie actually looked up from the pages.

"Did he say something weird?" she asked.

"Just a bit," Hope admitted, tilting her head to look to the high-reaching ceiling with the shadows from the flickering fireplace wavering and weaving on the walls. "Do you know anything about the top of the Slytherin family tree?"

"I know that Morea's family was from Greece and she had two sisters…she was more of free spirit, so she went off traveling and ended up in the eastern side of England, that's where she met Salazar. Of course, he fell in love with her _immediately_ of course, but Morea wasn't as interested."

Hope snorted as Aggie waggled her eyebrows for good measure.

"Eventually she fell in love with him and they got married and had two kids, Nelda and Adrian…when Nelda was legal, she left and became a sea-witch and met Damian Blackwood and they fell in love and got married—"

"I get the feeling you might be glossing over a few key details," Hope poked her in the shoulder.

"Eh," Aggie gave a careless wave of her hand, "what's it really matter?"

That made Hope's laughter echo around the room.

"At some point Adrian got into the Dark Arts," Aggie continued, "and he decided it would be a good idea to kill his sister and his brother-in-law and his mother."

"Yeah, but do you know what ever happened to Adrian?"

"I thought his father killed him," Aggie admitted with eyebrows raising high on her forehead. "He died, what, a month after the rest of them? And Salazar raised his grandson…why?"

"I think something happened to Adrian…something bad." Hope's fingers tapped against the floor. "Grandfather called it 'the tragedy of Adrian'…but he didn't really explain."

"I think Thanatos likes being… _odd_ ," Aggie decided.

Hope couldn't help but agree as they fell into another brief silence while they slurped their hot chocolate thoughtfully.

"How're you with the sword?"

Hope blinked. "How am I—? _What?"_

"Or do you like the bow better?" Aggie's eyes had gained a manic gleam.

That made Hope look at her oddly before the realization dawned on her. "This is about you and Galen with your extracurriculars, isn't it?"

"It's a Blackwood family tradition," Aggie corrected. "We started training when we were kids, you should too, you never know when a sword or bow'll come in handy."

It sounded like something that Thalia would've said.

"Seen any monsters lately?" Hope grinned widely.

"I saw a harpy when I was eight."

That made Hope stall. "What? _Seriously?"_

Aggie nodded seriously. "Aegean Iron is the only thing that sends them back to Tartarus. Mum says there were more back during Ancient Greece, but that was because the Gates of Tartarus were still open…of course, monsters aren't supposed to get out now because they're shut, but Mum thinks there might be a few cracks in the Gates. But the monsters that get through aren't very strong."

"The Gates of Tartarus?" Hope repeated, arching an eyebrow.

The blue-eyed witch bobbed her head again. "I think they were opened again a couple of centuries ago and Thanatos' great-granddaughter died to shut them…it's all very mysterious." She waggled her fingers at Hope for good measure.

"I think Greece is more fantastical than I'd first thought," Hope decided after a moment of deliberation.

"What? You don't want to kill a monster?"

"I think at this point," Hope said dryly, "the monster would be killing me."

Aggie made a hand gesture which was clearly to say: "Eh, so-so."

"Are you making this up?" Hope wondered, eyeing her cousin with a look that made Aggie draw a hand to her chest, looking appropriately stunned.

"How could you say such a thing?" she demanded. _"I tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!"_

"Sounds like something you got off the telly!"

Aggie shrieked with laughter as Hope pushed her onto her side, all the while claiming that she hadn't told a lie, but Hope knew better, or at least, she thought she did.

" _Ohmigods!"_ Hope said loudly. "You are trying to give me nightmares, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't do that!"

But Aggie's grin betrayed her. Thalia probably wouldn't have approved, especially Hope's side of the family hadn't dealt with mythical difficulties in quite some time. Maybe it was better that way.

* * *

Things were generally very quiet at Potter Manor, since there were only three of them living there on a regular basis. Of course, not interacting for days wasn't necessarily uncommon, but they did all tend to talk from time to time, it wasn't something that could be avoided, even with a house –and she was using that term _lightly_ – as big as Potter Manor was.

Still, Hope had a tendency to jump at any sudden noises when she was so used to the silence, so when Mindy herself known, she almost jumped out of her skin behind a pile of books situated on one of the tables in the library almost in a barrier formation.

"Mistress?" Mindy said patiently once Hope's racing heart had calmed. "A letter for you."

She held out a tray with a single letter perched on it in what was far more dignified than Hope could ever hope to be.

A frown creased her brow as she took the letter from Mindy, allowing her to skip off to her own business. It was Hope's name in dark ink in a familiar hand and when Hope flipped it around in order to break the seal and pull the letter free, it made a bit more sense.

She and Narcissa Malfoy hadn't exchanged many letters, but they had spent a short amount of time in each other's presence to like each other well enough.

The letter was basically an invitation to a sort of magical nobles club, almost entirely Pure-blood, she was sure, called Elysian Fields, which Hope suspected was the owner's way of sounding classy. The name would've been better suited for a club in Greece was all that she was saying.

Remus wouldn't approve, probably, but, then again, he never approved of anyone who was any way related to Death Eaters.

"Mindy," Hope called out into the silence, "I'm going to need a dress that's acceptable for Elysian Fields."

Mindy didn't answer her, of course, but when Hope finally made her way upstairs later that day to look for something in her room, she would find the dress set out with an appropriate level of accessories, but, as she'd predicted, Remus didn't approve.

"It's my decision," she said sourly that night while she was sorting through the varying books in her room, deciding which ones could be returned to the library and which ones she wanted to keep in her room.

"The wife of a Death Eater seems like a poor choice of company," Remus pointed out.

Hope wrinkled her nose. Of course, she could understand where Remus was coming from and she didn't particularly like Lucius Malfoy, if at all, and she didn't interact very much with Draco even though they were in the same House and the same age, but Narcissa was much more open.

"We can't help who we marry," Hope said decisively. "Besides, it's basically just tea at a fancy restaurant."

It was a bit more than that, but Remus didn't argue, even as he thought it was in James' nature to be too trusting.

* * *

The Elysian Fields was visually stunning as Mindy apparated her there, with the large foyer holding a dangling and lit chandelier swinging just barely above her head and gleaming marble floors and arches, with an impeccably dressed man standing behind a podium and he wasn't surprised by her arrival, it was only when his eyes shifted to her forehead that his eyes positively popped out.

Eleven year old witches in floor-length lavender-colored dresses weren't very impressive, and Hope had made a point of wearing her hair in such a way that it left her scar exposed, so there was no question who she was. The heels Mindy had gifted her with hadn't done much to improve her height, but there was a delicate chain of sapphires around her throat that had been a gift from Narcissa for her birthday earlier that year, which Hope thought that Narcissa would appreciate.

"Heir Potter to join Lady Malfoy," she told the young man simply and he bobbed his head eagerly, stumbling slightly over his words in order to take her cloak and escort her in the direction of the tearoom.

Hope found it just a bit irritating that she had to be escorted, but that was technically the custom.

Narcissa was easy to spot, even where she was sitting in the back, her own dress a pale blue with a comb glittering in her hair which was pulled up in an elaborate twist.

There were many booths in the room, and almost all of them full, and as she passed the booths by, eyes turned to look at her. Hope was used to the attention, though, her name and face always brought it, whether or not it was positive or negative, that was a different matter entirely.

"Lady Narcissa," Hope greeted as she took the seat opposite the woman once Narcissa had inclined her head slightly and given her a small wave of her hand to do so, "I wasn't expecting your letter."

"Can cousins not inquire about each other?" Narcissa's pale eyebrow arched delicately.

"Publicly having tea with each other is not our usual," Hope felt the need to point, "although, we have only had tea together once before."

Narcissa smiled before looking around the tearoom with vague disinterest. "I haven't been to the Elysian Fields in some time…and I thought you could use some time out of your manor."

"What makes you think I haven't been out of the manor?" Hope asked archly as a server approached bearing a tray with a teapot and two respective cups.

"I hope you don't mind that I ordered us some jasmine tea?" Narcissa asked her quickly before he arrived at their booth.

"Not at all," Hope said diplomatically, "I've had it from time to time. I don't mind its taste."

Narcissa spared her an amused glance as their tea was poured and they were left on their own once more, allowing them to continue their previous conversation.

"And have you been out of the manor?"she inquired.

"Barely," Hope admitted after a long moment, "I was in Greece with my cousins for a few hours…we also went ice skating at a lake on my property on Christmas day, so technically, _yes_ , I've been out of the manor."

Hope made it a habit to both make a loophole and integrate as much sarcasm as possible into the statement. It hadn't always worked in her favor with the Dursleys, but Narcissa wasn't the Dursleys, and she might appreciate it just a bit more.

And her lips twisted faintly in amusement as they both sipped their tea quietly.

"My caretaker still doesn't approve of me meeting you," Hope felt the need to inform her, "I think he's a little worried you're planning to kill me."

That got her a surprised look for her troubles. "Not a fan of sugar-coating the truth?" Narcissa mused as Hope took another sip from her teacup, the taste of the tea lingering on the tip of her tongue.

"Sometimes being very straightforward is helpful."

Narcissa released a soft hum. "What do you think?"

Hope considered her silently. Narcissa was as prim and proper as she had always been, at least, whenever she had been in Hope's sight. How you appeared when you were part of an old line was very important, even if Hope didn't like it very much, and Narcissa always looked as you'd expect a noblewoman to look, not a hair out of place.

"I think everyone has their own agenda," Hope said after a stilted moment. "The Malfoy family's reputation went down the drain a little when your husband was found to be a Death Eater…becoming an ally of my family would be beneficial for you."

"It would."

"But I don't think that reputation was really on your mind when we first met," Hope finished, even though she still wasn't quite sure what had been on Narcissa's mind that day. Maybe she'd seen a kindred spirit in her, maybe she'd just been curious.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Narcissa said evasively and Hope almost rolled her eyes.

"Well, if _perhaps,"_ Hope said mildly, leaning forward slightly, "is there, _perhaps_ , something you wouldn't mind assisting me with?"

Narcissa cast a curious glance over her. "And what would you require my assistance on, Heir Potter?"

"Well, I am the heiress to an old family line, but I'm also the head of the family," Hope explained. Being head of the family wasn't as impressive when you were the only member of the family, because though she and the Blackwoods were related through the Slytherin line, the Potter family was something entirely different. "If my father was still alive, I wouldn't be needing advice, but there is so much I don't understand about being an heiress."

And for some reason, her honesty made Narcissa smile kindly.

"I would be happy to," Hope was assured, and she smiled in return.

And soon after they finished off the tea and stood, and Hope, ever the overachiever, stood up a bit too fast and bumped slightly into someone who reached out with a hand to steady her at her hip.

"My apologies," Hope said quickly, "I wasn't—"

"It was _my_ mistake," the other corrected and Hope looked up in surprise to see she'd bumped into Cassius Warrington. He was a Slytherin in her year, in fact, he could've possibly been the only Slytherin apart from Daphne that didn't like her, though Hope couldn't really be certain; she'd never spoken to him."

"Heir Warrington," she said, inclining her head respectfully.

"Heir Potter," he responded, "or is it Heir Slytherin?"

Hope was so surprised she turned pink, that, and his hand was still steadied at her waist. "That would depend on the day," she said decisively before gently removing herself, bidding him farewell with very few words and making her way back to the foyer with Narcissa at her side with an oddly amused look on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassius will be popping up from time to time, and he's going to have a major role in one of the later books ;) I think I'm starting to like him quite a bit, but I've barely written him.
> 
> Don't expect any updates anytime soon, though, this chapter wiped me out.


	16. The Muses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a surprising amount of excitement about Cassius, which I thought was really interesting. You'll see him from time to time, it's still up in the air if he'll become a major character or not.

"You should move somewhere warmer."

Hope smirked widely. "You're just saying that because you live in Greece year round."

Aggie pried the dagger out of the target that was set up in the ballroom, rolling her eyes at her cousin. "Yeah, but Greece is _nice_ and _warm,_ and it's got lots of ruins that seem like they'd be your thing."

"They probably would be," Hope agreed as she took the small dagger from Aggie's hand.

"Don't hold it too loosely," she warned, "you're releasing it too early."

"Easy for you to say," Hope grumbled, "you've been doing this for awhile." She flicked her wrist and released the dagger. The flat side hit the target and it fell harmlessly to the ground.

Hope stared at it, disheartened. "Well, if that's the best I can manage, I'd better just stick to magic."

"Relying only on magic is a bad idea," Aggie said with a frown as Hope went to retrieve the dagger. "That's how my aunt got killed."

Hope froze, turning the small blade over in her hand. No one ever talked about Aglaia Blackwood, especially not Thalia; Hope got the feeling that she was never going to get over her sister's death.

"I thought she was killed in an explosion," Hope said carefully, a line appearing between her creased eyebrows.

"That's the official report," Aggie agreed with a scowl, taking the dagger and flinging it with a startling accuracy. "Unofficially, someone ran her through with a sword."

Hope's eyes went wide at the admission.

"I never met her," Aggie said, "Blackwoods are trained as partners, one sibling with the sword, the other with the bow, Aglaia and Mum always put it off, training together, but after she died…Mum threw herself into swordsmanship."

Hope could find nothing to say to that. She was no stranger to dead relatives.

"Swordsmanship sounds interesting," she had to acquiesce a few long moments later and Aggie hummed in agreement. "But I do have an estate in Greece," she added, returning to their original conversation, "I was thinking of spending my summer break down there."

It might do Remus some good to be somewhere warm for awhile, but she was thrown by how bright Aggie's beaming smile was.

"Oh, you _totally_ should!" Aggie said brightly. "Dia, Gal, and Mum'll probably be working, but I can show you around! We can see all the _ruins_ and the _sea!_ Ajax isn't into swimming much and it's no fun when you're by yourself."

Ajax Moswell was Aggie's best friend at Athene Academy, they'd apparently met during a tournament the school had hosted between bowmen and crossbowmen, since, _evidently_ , there were enough that were interested in both. Aggie had creamed him in the finals and they'd become friends. There were stranger ways to make friends, Hope conceded, but she didn't mention that.

"One day we should go sailing," Aggie added with a grin, "like Nelda did."

"Nelda had a pirate ship, we don't," Hope laughed as Aggie threw the dagger, moving forward to remove it from the target.

" _Ooh_ , maybe we should find it!" Aggie's eyes gained a manic gleam that almost made Hope take a step back. "Wouldn't that be the greatest? Sailing off in _the Siren?_ The fastest and most elusive ship of the tenth century? _The Siren's_ treasure has never been recovered!"

 _The Siren_ was a fascinating ship, Hope had to agree, with an even more fascinating history. The waves of piracy grew in strength from the tenth century to the fourteenth century, reaching their peak in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, so ships like _the Siren_ weren't uncommon. Of course, there weren't very many ships that were manned by witches or wizards. _The Siren_ was the most famous of the few that were, through the writings of one of the Muggles that worked on the ship.

It was one of the few pirate ships that didn't fly a naval flag bearing any part of a skeleton, only an Ouroborus, and the ship itself was the style of what was considered to be the very first Galleon, a name that was taken from the Wizarding gold quite purposefully.

"We don't even know where Nelda hid her treasure," Hope pointed out as she held out her hand for the dagger. "We probably wouldn't even find it."

"So?"

Hope laughed. "Do you even know how to sail, Aggie?"

"Well, _no,"_ Aggie admitted, her cheeks flushing faintly, "but I know you don't, either!"

"Yeah, but I'm not really hiding that," Hope snorted. "My point is, even if we found _the Siren_ , wherever it's hidden, we wouldn't be able to sail it."

"I'm sure we could figure it out," Aggie said, waving a hand carelessly. "Don't tell me you don't think about it, sailing away from everything, nothing but the sea around you?"

Aggie gave a dreamy sigh and Hope inhaled deeply, the smell of salt water in the air. "The Call of the Sea is very strong," she said simply.

"Salazar say that?" Aggie asked.

"Salazar says a lot of things," Hope said with a shrug, "he always seems a bit sad when he talks about Nelda running off to sail the seas, though, I think he missed the time they could've spent together."

Aggie frowned. "He sounds like a very sad man."

"I think he is," Hope agreed, "but I think he feels pretty guilty about his son killing his wife and daughter."

"Hm," Aggie hummed thoughtfully as Hope flung the dagger, and this time it lodged in the target, albeit in the furthest ring.

"Yes!" Hope pumped her fist excitedly.

"Oh, you _barely_ made it onto the target," Aggie scoffed as Hope danced forward in order to pull the dagger free.

"Which is the best hit I've had since we started," Hope pointed out with a laugh. "By the way, Daphne and Hermione are coming over later to hang out, want to stick around and meet them?"

Aggie grinned.

* * *

They all were talking over each other, describing their current vacations, it was hard for Aggie to keep track of everything, but the pair didn't appear to be having any difficulties with it.

"Oh, this is my cousin," Hope added quickly, dragging the red-head into view, "Aggie, this is Daphne and Hermione."

Daphne was a blonde-haired witch brown from the Greek sun and wearing a very modern peplos, if Aggie did say so herself, but Hermione had her brown hair tied into a French plait and her brown eyes were kind. All three of them together with their varying colours of hair and eyes were rather striking.

"Aggie," Daphne spoke her name smoothly, "you're the other one that's into Earth Magick, right?"

"Is that the only thing you told them about me?" Aggie grinned to Hope, and Hope rolled her eyes for good measure.

"Don't be _ridiculous!"_ Hope swatted her on the arm. "I've told them a lot about you, but that's what they're going to remember the most."

"Mm- _hm."_

Hermione's eyes gleamed brightly. "It's nice to meet you," she said to Aggie, "Hope's talked about you, _obviously."_

" _Aww!"_ Aggie poked Hope in the side.

"You can tell she's younger," Hope said with a snort.

"Only by a few months! Besides, I'm a higher level than you in school!"

"That's because you go to Athene Academy, not because you're smarter," Hope retorted easily.

"Well…" Aggie said mildly and both Daphne and Hermione laughed at the outrage on Hope's face.

"I cannot _believe_ that we are related," Hope said decisively and the laughter echoed.

"Are we opening presents now or later?" Daphne asked rather bluntly, holding the two wrapped presents in her arm, and Hermione was similar.

Hope grinned widely before gesturing them back towards the sitting room, where the Christmas tree was still resting in the corner, not yet taken down, with two presents remaining under the tree. Aggie slumped into the armchair and watched as the three friends exchanged their gifts.

" _The Art of Divination,"_ Daphne read out with a laugh upon seeing the title of the book, "does this scream _me?"_

"You wanted a good book on divination that's not like what Trelawney teaches," Hope said with an all too knowing air about her. "I got that book at Corinth Crossroads."

That made Daphne's face turn considering as she looked over the book in her hands.

Hope pulled the wrapping paper aside on Daphne's gift to her and she smiled. _The Book of Stars_ was the title and her fingers smoothing over the silver lettering on the cover, blue and dotted with stars. She flipped it open in order to look over the pages. The constellations were separated by family, which was basically just a collection of constellations that appeared close together on the sky, and each constellation had a page dedicated to the constellation's name and location in the sky.

"This is cool," Hope decided. She liked good old-fashioned star charts, but she had a number of those, she didn't have anything like this, barring her Astronomy textbook, but it was a bit of a bore.

Hope had gotten Hermione a book on protective enchantments that she'd thought suited Hermione well. Hermione had never shown much of an interest in the Ancient Arts like Hope did, or the vague interest in proper Divination, as Daphne did. But Hope knew enough about Hermione to know that the book _An Introduction to Apotropaic Magic_ would be of interest to Hermione.

Daphne, on the other hand, had gotten her some new quills and a candle enchanted to smell like the thing you enjoyed most, and a small book on Divination for Dummies that Hope knew was a joke, based on the glare that Hermione levelled at Daphne.

"Use your inner eye to see into the future," Daphne declared in a misty tone and they all laughed. Aggie had to presume it was some kind of inside joke.

Hermione had gotten Daphne her favourite sweets from Honeydukes, Peppermint Toads, and an old book on potions that hadn't been in Flourish and Blotts when they'd gone by before classes had begun, much to her annoyance, and now Daphne flipped through it eagerly.

And then it was Hope's turn to open Hermione's gift and she parted the wrapping paper in order to reveal a rather simple leather-bound book with a bronze pentagram at the centre.

"It's supposed to be a grimoire," Hermione explained, "I figured once you've mastered Earth Magick, you could write your own book."

Hope's fingers roved over the book, now that was an intriguing thought, and she couldn't help but smile.

* * *

"I have something for you," Hope said when her friends had gone and Aggie shot her a look of confusion. "Stay here for a second."

And then she disappeared up the stairs only to return a few moments with a knife in hand. "This is for you," she said, handing it over to Aggie.

Aggie took it out of the sheath and examined it closely. The blade was dark silver in colour, but the hilt was more detailed, resembling a tree branch around which a snake was wound, but even that design was subtle enough that there wasn't much of uneven texture as she held it.

A smile curled her lips. "It's beautiful," said Aggie, her awe reflected in the blade, "whose was it?"

"Morea Avis," Hope said and Aggie's eyes gleamed. "It was shoved into my family tapestry, but I've never had much use for it, besides, it might be more of your style."

Aggie grinned widely.

* * *

The Potter Lands were snow-capped, but the edge of the sea rolling in onto the shoreline remained unfrozen, and Hope sat on a craggy stone along the sea, watching the surf, smelling the saltwater.

She hadn't spent a lot of time at the seaside, she hadn't spent a lot of time exploring the forest, either, she always seemed to find herself spending more time in the manor than out of it. Over the summer, though, before they went off to Greece –if Remus was all right with it, but Hope couldn't really imagine Remus _not_ being okay with going somewhere warmer– she'd probably spend a good deal of it outside over the summer.

"Have you turned your interest from earth to sea?" a voice probed and Hope smiled.

"Earth Magick doesn't just involve earth, you know," she said, looking up to grin at Thanatos. He wasn't wearing his usual toga, having exchanged it for a long black ulster coat. He looked very modern, a fact that Hope found very amusing, considering just how old he was. "Wind and sea and flame are included."

His lips curled into a smile of his own. "You remind me of her sometimes, Nelda, you and Aggie both."

"You knew her?" Hope was surprised. It was one thing for Thanatos to be in contact with her and the Blackwoods, and anyone descended from Thanatos before them, but Nelda was before any of his descendents along the Slytherin line.

"Not personally, no," Thanatos conceded, sweeping his coat around him as he sat down beside her. "But her life was quite intriguing, albeit a bit tragic."

Hope could say nothing to that.

"The Call of the Sea is strong," Thanatos said instead. "I'm not surprised that both of you have felt it."

"What's it like out there?" Hope asked, her eyes fixed out at the sea.

"Untamable and tempestuous and turbulent and treacherous," he said and Hope turned her eyes onto him, "but also calm and inviting and mesmerizing and impossibly deep. There are two sides to everything, dearest."

And Hope smiled.

* * *

The three girls boarded the train back to Hogwarts the next Monday and Hope bid farewell to Remus, his arms warm and tight around her shoulders, warning her to keep out of trouble even as he pressed a sheaf of parchment into her hands with a wink.

"Hope Potter," a voice said when the train started moving as Hope and the girls looked for a spot to sit and Hope turned around, arching an eyebrow.

"George Weasley," she returned easily.

"I could just kiss you," he said with a wide grin.

Her cheeks turned pink. "Well, don't put yourself out, dearest."

He grinned. "You three are our muses, you know!"

It was a joke, of course, but there was truth to it. The three girls had been fairly inspiring for their pranks, they had played the part of muses and enemies easily.

And it had Hope shaking her head in amusement as she walked past him to join Hermione and Daphne where they'd managed to snag a compartment.

"Shame, I really thought he was going to plant one on you," Daphne said mildly and Hope glared while Hermione stifled her giggles. "Did Remus have any thoughts on the draft for the map?"

"Just a couple of things," Hope said, holding out their rough sketch with his notes on it and what looked like the rough draft of Remus' band of friends' map. "A few tweaks in the spell and it should work, and he thinks we should come up with a sort of cover."

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present The Marauder's Map," Hermione read off with an arched eyebrow. "Remus' school friends were rather strange, no offense." She added the last bit towards Hope, since Prongs was Hope's father, but Hope didn't mind.

"What if we did something like that, though?" Hope asked brightly. "You know, used nicknames and had a group name?"

Daphne appeared to be considering it before snorting loudly. "What would we call you? _Runespeaker?"_

Hope was still obsessed with runes, but that wasn't anything really new; Ancient Runes was her favourite class at Hogwarts.

"It doesn't have to be anything _serious,"_ Hope rolled her eyes, "just, you know, something to put on the paper. Besides, Remus says it's a good idea to have an alias on parchment, in case we get caught with it, and we can always change it later."

"It's not against the rules to have a map," Hermione pointed out, still reading over Remus' corrections.

"Yeah, but this one's got a good bit of the secret passageways listed," Daphne pointed out. "People probably don't want those getting out."

"And you'd call Hope 'Runespeaker'?" Hermione replied dubiously. "And we'd call you, what, _Frostbite?"_

Hope smirked. Daphne was becoming slightly infamous in Slytherin House for her cold shoulder and frosty demeanour towards people she didn't like, which just so happened to be most of Slytherin.

"It's not a bad name," Daphne admitted thoughtfully and Hope and Hermione laughed. "And we should call you… _Silvertongue."_

"Silvertongue? _Why?"_

"You talk your way around things," Daphne pointed out, "honest and evasive."

"You could just say she's a good liar," Hope mentioned.

"I'm trying to compliment her!"

"I think the only thing you're doing is confusing her," Hope said, looking over Hermione who did indeed look somewhere caught between confused and flattered.

"George called us a bunch of muses," Hope added a moment later and both of them looked at her.

"What?" Hermione laughed. "Why?"

"I assume because we're inspiring." Daphne fluttered her eyelashes at Hermione who scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Merlin, you're _terrible!"_

"What if," Hope said loudly to draw their attention back to the matter at hand, "it was…Messrs Silvertongue, Runespeaker, and Frostbite Purveyors of Aids to Magical Intrigue are proud to present The Muse's Map."

"It sounds so weird," Daphne wrinkled her nose, but then she grinned a moment later, "but I like it."

"She's implying that we're men," Hermione pointed out, as 'Messr' was the plural of 'Mr'.

Hope shrugged her shoulders. "It sounds better than 'Misses'.

"There is that," Daphne agreed before bringing out a new leaf of parchment and tapping her wand to it and saying _"Creo tabula castellum."_

And they watched as ink spread across the parchment, forming the corridors and hallways of the castle.

* * *

The very first day of the week preceding the full moon, Mindy brought Remus lunch (when he'd returned to the manor during his lunch break from his day job) with a goblet that was smoking eerily.

"Mindy," he said, eyeing it carefully. "What is this?"

Of course, he knew that Mindy would never poison him, she was too kind for that, but, still, he had no idea what the potion smoking in the goblet was.

"A gift from Mistress," Mindy answered stoutly. "One goblet of Wolfsbane potion a day for seven days before the full moon."

She gave a small incline of her head before leaving to do her usual daily chores, leaving Remus gaping in his seat, unable to comprehend what he'd just heard.

That Hope Potter, Hope Potter that complained constantly about her potions class and her potions teacher, Hope Potter that generally preferred potions that were more herbal in nature, had gotten up one day and had proceeded to make the one potion that would be of value to Remus...it made his heart swell with emotion.

And next to the goblet was a spice jar labelled with cocoa, unsweetened cocoa, no doubt to be an improvement on the taste without being sugar, which he was certain she knew as well as he did made it useless.

Remus wished she was still at the house so that he could hug her so tight that she would feel it in her ribs for days.

What had he done to deserve Hope Potter, he'd never know.

* * *

"I don't know how you did it."

The fire was flickering in the fireplace and Hope was sitting in the armchair closest to it, her legs curled under her as she flicked through the pages of a book that Draco didn't recognize. "Did what?" Hope asked shortly without looking up.

"Got my mother to like you."

Hope arched an eyebrow, looking up at long last to level a stare at the grey-eyed wizard. "I found that honesty was the best policy," she said rather blandly before adding, "Heir Malfoy."

His eyes narrowed and his face pinched. He didn't like it, he didn't like Hope Potter, but that wasn't much of a surprise, hardly anyone in Slytherin House liked her because of her status as the famed Girl-Who-Lived. Almost anyone who wasn't in a family that had been allied with Voldemort had simply followed suit with the shunning and distaste.

The distaste must've been quite obvious, because Hope's lips twisted faintly. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

It wasn't much of a guess, more of a statement of fact.

"I don't believe you," he said finally, "you _can't_ be related to Salazar Slytherin."

The idea that the person that the girl that defeated the Dark Lord was Slytherin's heir was completely _outrageous_ , besides, her family had always been allied with Gryffindor House, and what Slytherin would allow that?

"You can believe what you want," Hope said, the flames of the fire reflected in her eyes, giving them an almost orange quality even as she heaved a heavy sigh, returning her eyes to the book in her lap. "I'm used to people not believing a word I say."

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "What're you talking about?" he sneered.

"You're a bully," Hope said, rolling her eyes towards him, "almost everyone in this house is, but I'm used to bullies picking on me."

"If you want me to feel sorry for you—"

"I don't give a _damn_ what you think," Hope fired back, shutting her book with a loud snap and standing fast enough that Draco actually had to take a step back. She was barely taller than him, and only because the soles of her boots had a slight heel. "Think what you like, do what you please, but I wasn't lying about being Elpis Slytherin, I don't need to."

Her eyes glowed an unearthly green and the fire behind them blazed brightly and Draco swallowed thickly. "I don't like bullies, Heir Malfoy. The only thing you have currently going for you is that I like your mother."

And then she brushed past him, making her way towards the third years girls' dormitory and Draco was left standing there, feeling very much like he'd received a very subtle threat.

Now that would be very Slytherin of her.

He didn't see the figure of an older boy melting into the shadows, allowing himself a smirk of amusement.

* * *

"And would you believe it, I think they hate you more," Daphne mentioned mildly at breakfast, glancing down the table. "Threaten anyone recently?"

"I took a page out of Salazar's book," Hope said as she took a gulp of pumpkin juice and Hermione gaped.

"Tell me you _didn't_ threaten anyone," Hermione said with reproach.

"Eh, threaten is such a _strong_ word," Hope said in an offhand manner.

" _Hope!"_

"What?" Hope demanded. "All I said was I didn't like bullies, and I guess Heir Malfoy has a big mouth."

"Maybe you should've, you know, just cursed him," Daphne considered, "or Heir Flint! He's _worse!"_

Hermione spluttered as she looked between her friends. Between the three of them, she was clearly the most level-headed.

"He wasn't around," Hope said with a shrug, "besides, the ones that whisper behind their hands are just as bad as the ones that insult you to your face."

Hope had experience with both. She was 'that Potter girl', after all.

And Hope should've been expecting it when she was walking to Charms later that day and someone threw all of their weight down onto the books she was holding her arms, forcing Hope to drop them to the floor.

The laughter echoed as she knelt in order to pick up her things, glaring at Marcus Flint as he moved past with his usual cronies.

A hand offered her one of her books that had fallen a bit farther away and Hope blinked in surprise, taking in Cassius Warrington.

"Thank you, Heir Warrington," she said simply, taking the book from him.

"Cassius is just fine," he said.

"Then Hope is fine too," Hope retorted and he offered her his hand in order to pull her upright.

He smiled before nodding towards where Flint had run off. "You could always curse them," he said, "I'm pretty sure you've got a few good ones under your belt."

"I'm flattered," Hope said, her lips curling, "but it would be a waste of a spell to use one on people like them."

"Could be useful, though," Cassius said, both eyebrows rising on his forehead. "The silence would be nice."

That made Hope laugh. "I'll keep it in mind," she promised before he inclined his head and started to walk away, leaving Hermione and Daphne to join up with Hope.

" _Ooh_ , I didn't know that you were friends with _Heir Warrington!"_ Daphne's eyes positively gleamed, and Hope didn't like it in the slightest.

"What? We ran into each other over break when I was out at the Elysian Fields with Lady Malfoy," Hope said defensively. "And I do mean ran into each other _literally."_

Hermione considered him from the back. "Well, I guess he's a _little_ cute."

" _Ugh!"_ Hope groaned loudly. "Is that all you can think about? I guess I should be worried about every guy that speaks to me, because they all might secretly be in love with me!"

"Who's in love with you?" two voices piped up as the Weasley twins made their appearance and Hope turned bright red.

"No one you need to worry about," she said quickly before darting forward, with her friends following quickly after her.

Fred and George shared a look.

"Well," said Fred, "if anyone's going to be in love with her, it's going to be you."

" _What?"_ George spluttered, a pink flush making itself known on his cheeks, though not very obvious. "Why _me?"_

"Because Angie and I are solid," Fred said quite serenely and George rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

* * *

Astronomy was one of the easier classes that Hope had, but she was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open tonight. It was cold and Hope was tired. She'd woken up early, Salazar had been teaching her how to make wind knots, it was a complicated kind of witchcraft that involved the tying of knots with a few wind spells so that when untied, the knots would release a strong gale.

Sailors were known for buying them, or that was what they were known for back when Salazar was young.

"I could kick you if you like," George offered from her right side and Hope almost poked her eye out on her telescope in order to glare at him. " _What?_ I'm just saying, you're barely conscious as it is."

"Is being tired a crime?" Hope asked, scrubbing viciously at her eyes before returning to looking through the telescope.

"Not really," George acquiesced, "but pointing it out is always fun."

Hope almost rolled her eyes as she focused her telescope on the sky, picking out one constellation in particular. "Found Serpens yet, Weasley?"

George groaned. _"No,"_ he complained, "I don't think I'm looking in the right place."

Hope leaned back, glancing to where Daphne was trying to help Hermione find an elusive constellation. "Let me have a look," she said finally and George eyed her dubiously, but he still stood in order to let her sit in his place and look through his telescope.

She frowned. The lens was cloudy, warped from prolonged use. If Hope was the wagering sort, she'd surmise that the telescope, like his brother's, was a hand-me-down, but it wasn't in Hope's place to bring that up.

Hope positioned the telescope slightly to the left, shifting it just slightly to what had previously been out of range.

"All right, here it is," she said, "in the middle is Alpha Serpentis and that's the middle Serpens, going North to South."

She stood in order to allow George to look through. "You know too much about Astronomy, Hope."

Hope's eyebrow twitched slightly and she leaned down swiftly. "It might help, George, if you read the chapter on whatever constellations we're supposed to be focusing on in our Astronomy class before it starts."

He didn't look to her, but she could see the smirk. "Where's the fun in that?"

And Hope could only shake her head and roll her eyes as she returned to her own seat.

* * *

"Okay, this is the _coolest_ thing we've ever done," Daphne said decisively as they roamed the hallways, looking over their map as they did so. It was open in her hands with Hermione on her left side and Hope on her right, both looking over her shoulders as their names appeared down the hall.

"Well, at least we won't get lost anymore on our way to class," Hermione said rather decisively.

"I'm sure that's the _biggest issue_ we've had," Hope snorted and Hermione threw a look in her direction.

"You're just happy about the shortcut to the library," Hope added, grinning widely and Hermione's cheeks pinked.

" _Am not!"_

"Are _too!"_

And before they could round the corner, a pair of ginger-haired lads did instead, tucking something under their robes as they did so.

"Well if it isn't our favourite Slytherins and Gryffindor." Fred was grinning widely, and that only made Daphne scoff loudly.

"I've never heard a bigger lie," she said.

"What're you even doing up here?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"The one-eyed witch passage is around the corner," Hope said sagely, before they could come up with something, her eyes looking them over. "Probably just came back from Hogsmeade."

Both of them stared at her, their jaws dropping.

"How d'you even _know_ about that passage?" Fred demanded.

Hope shrugged. "It's one of the seven passages that lead out of the castle: there's that one that goes into Honeydukes' cellar, there's one behind a mirror on the fourth floor that leads into Hogsmeade as well, just barely inside of town, there's the one that the Whomping Willow is planted over that leads to the Shrieking Shack, the one behind Gregory the Smarmy leads just outside the castle at the viaduct entrance, the one on the stairs to the Astronomy Tower leads all the way down to where the boathouse is, there's the one behind the tapestry on the first floor that comes out into the Black Lake, and then there's the one in the clockwork tower that leads off in the direction of that Muggle town opposite Hogsmeade…Dufftown, I think it's called, no, wait, there's one more in the dungeons that leads into the ravine the viaduct crosses."

They'd been staring at her in disbelieving silence for quite a long time, Hope realized. Hermione and Daphne were less surprised; Remus had told them about the first seven passages out of the castle and they all knew that the Whomping Willow passage was the one Remus had gone through on a monthly basis for his transformations.

"When did you find the last one?" Hermione asked intrigued.

"Sal –someone mentioned it to me," Hope said, stumbling slightly. She couldn't very well go around saying that she'd gotten the information from Salazar Slytherin, a man who was revered by Slytherins as much as he was hated by Gryffindors, and a man who was very much dead.

"It took us _years!"_ George spluttered in outrage.

"That's your problem," Hope smirked before darting a hand forward to snatch a folded bit of parchment tucked into the pocket of Fred's robes.

"Hey!" Fred complained, trying to grab it back, only to pause when Hope pulled out her wand and said the choice phrase of: _"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

And the ink spread across the parchment and Hope smiled.

"Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present The Marauder's Map," Daphne read off before poking Hope in the side, " _that's_ where you got that phrase from! Remus' first draft wasn't complete!"

"Well, obviously she altered it," Hermione said, looking over the cover with interest.

"Hold up!" George waved his hands violently. "Where did you even know that phrase?"

"I know the ones that made the map," Hope said, nonplussed when their eyes widened. "Well, two of them personally. Prongs was my dad, Moony's my caretaker."

Fred was looking at her with something akin to awe. "You're the _daughter_ of a _Marauder?_ You _live_ with a _Marauder?"_

"Should we tell Remus he has a few fanboys?" Daphne smirked widely. "I'm not sure how he'd feel about that, actually."

"Remus told me about the seven passageways out of the school, he was surprised about the cave in behind the mirror, though, I think that was one of his favourites," Hope mused thoughtfully as she brought the map next to theirs before looking up quickly to the twins. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Wait, you've got your own map?" George asked, curving around with Fred so they were looking over the three girls' shoulders as they compared the two maps side by side in order to see if they'd made any mistakes.

The two maps were practically identical upon first glance, which was impressive to say the least.

"We missed a corridor on the third floor Hermione noted and Daphne pulled out her wand and a few folded pieces of parchment that Remus had left them with, looking for the correct phrase before tapping the map and saying very clearly, _"Edu conciliabulum"_

The ink spread from where the hall had ended on the map to where it actually ended in the castle.

"You made your own map?" George corrected his words. "Why?"

"Getting lost is a little annoying," Daphne said, "not all of us wander around the castle at night like Hope does."

"Hey!" Hope complained.

"Oh, don't act like that's not true," Daphne said, waving a hand carelessly, "I still remember when you and Hermione ran into that three-headed dog in the middle of the night."

Hermione gave a polite cough. "Actually, that was just me, Hope ran into me afterwards."

"Three-headed dog?"

All three turned around, looking at the pair of lads in surprise like they hadn't been expecting them to still be where they were.

"You're still here? I thought you'd left," Daphne said blankly.

Fred very nearly sighed. "You _do_ have our map," he pointed out, jerking a thumb in the direction of Hope, who was indeed still holding the Marauder's Map.

Hope smiled sheepishly before tapping it with her wand again and saying simply, " _Mischief Managed."_

Daphne and Hermione watched with interest as the ink that had so clearly spread across the parchment faded as though it had never been there in the first place.

"Can we see yours?" George asked once Fred had snatched the map back from Hope, eyeing her with a caution that said he wasn't going to trust her coming close to the Marauder's Map anytime soon.

"Silvertongue, Runespeaker, and Frostbite?" Fred asked in amusement, glancing towards the girls.

Hope gave a shrug. "They're just codenames in case someone finds the map. We might change them later. We're still making edits."

"The Muse's Map?" George was smiling and Hope didn't like it. "Is that because of what I said to you on the train?"

"I admit to nothing," Hope said, her nose high in the air.

"That three-headed dog on the third floor corridor? Is that what you're talking about?" Fred asked, returning them to their rather brief previous conversation.

"How d'you know about that?" Hermione asked, eyes wide in surprise. "That corridor's _forbidden!"_

Both twins shared a smirk with one another.

"That might've been the appeal, I think," Daphne said to Hermione, rolling her eyes for good measure. "These two aren't very good at following the rules, remember."

Fred snorted. "Oh, like you _are?_ How many of those pranks were you involved in last term?"

"I think he's speaking," Daphne said very pointedly to Hope and Hermione, acting as though she couldn't hear a single thing that Fred was saying, "but all I hear is—" She made a rather pale imitation of a buzzing noise, waving her hands close to her ears. It was enough to make her friends laugh.

"Do you know who put that three-headed dog there?" Hope asked the twins curious, fairly intrigued.

"No," George actually chuckled, "but one guess who."

Fred sniggered.

"I don't get it," Daphne said slowly.

"Hagrid," Fred explained, "the gatekeeper? He's absolutely mad about dangerous creatures."

"The one that lives in that little hut by the forest?" Daphne asked dubiously and Hope furrowed her eyebrows.

"You've never talked to Hagrid?" Hermione asked in amusement, her eyes glittering as she looked from Hope to Daphne. " _Seriously?"_

"I spend most of my time in the castle," Hope pointed out, "and mostly in Morea's Room."

"We've all been spending a lot of time in Morea's Room," Daphne responded. "It's nice and private and no one sneers at you, what's not to love?"

"Slytherin common room not much fun?" George presumed.

"I curse my drapes at night so no one is stupid enough to attack me in the night," Hope said dryly, "someone tried that on my first night, it didn't end _well_ for them."

She smiled very sweetly at the pair of them and for the first time in his life, George thought crossing Hope Potter wouldn't end very well for anyone.

* * *

Hope had never spoken to the giant of a man that lived in the hut by the Forbidden Forest, but Hermione was far more familiar with him, she saw him often on her way back from Care for Magical Creatures.

Hagrid was tilling the frozen earth of his garden when they dropped by early into February. It wasn't as cold as it had been in the previous weeks, so Hope, Hermione, and Daphne were wearing lighter outdoor clothes. Hope was fighting off a cold, so her reddened nose and flushed cheeks were hidden under her scarf.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Hermione waved her hand, giving the Gamekeeper a bright smile.

He was larger once the girls got closer, Hope noticed. She'd never met anyone taller than Thanatos, and he sometimes increased his height to seem more impressive. Of course, she'd known that Hagrid reached a great height, after all, he had guided them across the Black Lake to Hogwarts, but that had always been a bit of an afterthought .

"Hullo, Hermione," Hagrid said, dark eyes twinkling under bushy eyebrows. "Brought some friends around, eh?"

"This is Daphne and Hope," Hermione said, gesturing towards the two girls.

"Hullo," he said, his eyes shifting to Hope, like most inevitably did. Hope's shoulders tightened. "Yeh probably don't remember me but I'm the one that took you to those Muggles you live with."

Hope's eyes narrowed. "Lived with," she corrected in a muffled voice. "We didn't get along so I left."

Those bushy eyebrows rose on his forehead, but Hope didn't want to talk about how or why she'd left the Dursleys. She'd explained it far too much to far too many people.

"We were told you're the best person to talk to about magical creatures on the grounds," Daphne said, her brow furrowed as she looked him over and the man actually chuckled.

"Aye, I do," he said, beaming.

"Do you know about the three-headed dog on the third floor corridor?" Hope asked archly, leaning her head back slightly in order to free her mouth a bit more some that her words didn't come out as muffled as they had previously.

"So you've met Fluffy?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "That thing has a name?"

"'Course he does," Hagrid retorted gruffly, digging the hoe back into the earth, "he's mine, bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year –I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—" He stopped abruptly, apparently realizing he'd said too much. "Now, don't ask me anymore, that's top secret, that is."

"Probably why Snape ran off during the Troll incident," Daphne said sagely, "that injury to his leg was probably a bite from one of the dog's heads. Maybe he wants whatever's under that trapdoor."

"Rubbish," Hagrid said, frowning down at all three of them. "Snape's a Hogwarts _teacher,_ he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"Yeah, well he's not exactly a great teacher," Hope scowled. She barely had a passing grade in his class, and it was probably only because of Daphne's help that she was managing to stay afloat.

"You think he might've been the one that you thought cursed you?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

Hope rolled her eyes at the sky. "I didn't _think_ I was cursed, I was _actually_ cursed, remember? I had to purify a crystal and everything!"

"I'm sure there're easier ways to get rid of a curse," Hermione countered.

"No offense, but I trust Earth Magick more than wand-magic."

"Earth Magick is the thing that put you in the hospital during the Troll incident," Hermione pointed out, crossing her arms and looking just a trifle too smug, like someone who knew that they'd proven their point.

"Yeah, but that was a fluke, that was because I was using a spell out of my depth," Hope said shortly, making a nonchalant gesture with her hand.

The pair had clearly forgotten why they'd come down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to begin with and Daphne rolled her eyes, something that was clearly missed by the other two.

She cleared her throat loudly to bring the attention back to the front and centre as she fixed her eyes on Hagrid. "So you're saying that Snape wouldn't run off and try to get into that trapdoor that dog is guarding?"

That made the gamekeeper frown. "No," he said, "and he wouldn' curse a student. You three best not be meddlin' in this, yeh hear? It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel—"

"Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione repeated and with that Hagrid pointed turned away from them, cheeks ruddy with his irritation with himself for revealing even that much, particularly to three girls that barely knew him.

But Hope curved around him. "Wait," she said quickly, "I have a question about Fluffy, your dog, you said you got him from a Greek?"

The interest appeared to surprise him, but how could Hope not be interested?

Cerberuses were rare in the world, more common in Greece, she knew, but Cerberus was considered a symbol of the Underworld, seen as the three-headed dog that guarded the Underworld to prevent souls from returning to the living.

She knew that Cerberus was a very real dog, because Thanatos had mentioned it once very briefly and with distaste.

"What'd he look like?" she inquired.

"Young," Hagrid said, his brow furrowing again, "dark eyes—"

"Completely black?" Hope guessed, "like this?" Her eyes filtered black, like she had onyx grafted to her eye sockets.

"Yes," Hagrid said, blinking in surprise.

Hope looked to Hermione and Daphne before returning her attention to Hagrid and saying politely: "Thank you for your time."

She hooked her arms with Daphne and Hermione as they made their way back to the castle.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow. "Why does it matter that he got his dog from a Greek with black eyes?"

"Thanatos!" Hermione said suddenly, her eyes wide. "He's got eyes like that."

"It's strange," Hope agreed. "Cerberuses are the children of Cerberus, so—"

"Cerberus is a boy," Daphne pointed out.

Hope waggled her fingers making a face that made her eyes gleam with a manic light. " _Magic!"_

Daphne snorted.

"There's not many in the world, I guess Grandfather's in charge of finding proper homes for the puppies when they come around." Hope released a small laugh. "That must be _fun."_

They all shared a laugh at the idea of Thanatos, esteemed god of death, relegated to seller of three-headed puppies.

"But the three-headed dog is guarding something," Hermione said, "something that has to do with someone named Nicolas Flamel…does anyone remember that name from anywhere?"

"I think I read it in a book once," Hope said, screwing her face up in thought, "but I can't remember where… _exactly."_

Daphne tightened her grip on their arms suddenly. "Come on, let's go!"

"Where?" Hope demanded, rather startled as they were practically dragged back up to the stone courtyard and then in through the large oaken double doors and up the stairs.

"The library, of course!"

Hope looked over her shoulder to Hermione where she was also being dragged along. "She's starting to sound a lot like you."

Hermione shot her a glower. "Coming from the girl who spent just about as much time as I did in the library this year?"

Hope pretended not to hear.

There were too many coincidences that had occurred this year, that much Hope knew. The fact that Daphne had seen Hagrid at Gringotts, removing something from an unnamed vault when one of the vaults was burglarized later that day only to have nothing taken…the fact that one of the corridors was off limits when the previous year it hadn't been (if the Weasley twins were to be believed)…the fact that there was a very large Cerberus positioned over a trapdoor that was hiding something that belonged to Nicolas Flamel…

Far _too many_ coincidences.

Daphne dragged them down the hallway to the library, all three carefully slowing down and turning silent as they stepped through the threshold. Daphne crooked her fingers to her two friends, weaving past a fifth year Hufflepuff that was frantically reading through a book on Arithmancy, evidently already starting to cram for his OWLs.

She led them close to the back where the older books were located, the ones that weren't about recent developments.

Daphne's fingers roved over the spines of the books, clearly looking for one in particular, though which one Hermione and Hope couldn't have been certain until their friend released a murmured _"Ah!"_ and pulled one of the books free. There were a few more precious moments during which she flipped to the right page, and then she held it out to them with a whisper of: "Read this!"

Hope and Hermione took it from her, holding the book's weight evenly between the two of them as they read:

_A Short Synopsis of Alchemy:_

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. An incorrect assumption was that the Stone could turn a base metal such as lead to gold or silver, when it can only turn metal to gold. The Philosopher's Stone has been a symbol of enlightenment or complete perfection, another reason for alchemists' to strive to create it._

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera-lover, who celebrated his six-hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six-hundred and fifty-eight)._

Their eyebrows rose high on their forehead. Both of the properties that the Philosopher's Stone possessed made it something that would be highly sought after. Being able to live forever, or as long as you had an endless supply of the Elixir of Life, and being able to turn any metal to gold? That was definitely something worth killing over, well, for some.

"So, it's definitely likely that they're hiding the Philosopher's Stone in the castle," Hope murmured quietly.

"That's completely insane," Hermione hissed under her breath. "It was clearly fine in Mr. Flamel's hands, why bring it here after all this time?"

"No idea," Daphne said quietly, "but I think it's safe to say someone in the castle wants it."

"Snape?" Hope surmised. She'd like it if he was an actual villain, that would give her a good reason to hate him, though being an arrogant toerag that bullied his own students certainly wasn't making him into a good man.

"Maybe," Hermione hummed, "or maybe someone else."

But none of them appeared to know who it could be if it wasn't Snape. It was something they were going to have to sleep on.

* * *

 

The fire in the fireplace in Morea's Room was flickered as the girls each did their own work in silence.

Hermione was growing steadily more annoyed with her Divination class that Hope was actually impressed that she hadn't walked out by now. Divination, proper Divination, was of more interest to her and Daphne than it was to Hermione that Hope was still surprised that she'd taken the class in the first place, but she'd probably thought it was a good idea at the time, broadening her horizons.

Hope, on the other hand, was putting the finishing touches on her essay for Transfiguration.

"Hey, Hope?" Daphne asked, flipping through one of Hope's books on Greek mythology that she'd left lying around Morea's Room.

Hope gave a hum to indicate that she was listening, still scratching out words onto the parchment.

"I like the map being called the Muse's Map," Daphne said carefully, as though she was worried how Hope would react. "But I was wondering if you'd be all right with changing the names?"

Hope looked up and snorted. "Those names were more like placeholders, really. I came up with them on the fly…did you come up with something better?"

Fortified with the knowledge that Hope wasn't firmly against the idea, Daphne slid off the couch she was sharing with Hermione and onto the floor next to Hope as she set aside her essay to dry before she could roll it up.

"Okay, so according to the Greek Myths the Muses are inspirational goddesses of literature, science, the arts, right?" The question was rhetoric, obviously, and Hermione paused in scowling at her dream chart to listen in. "And there are nine Muses, right? There's Calliope for epic poetry, Clio for history, Euterpe for lyric poetry, Thalia—" Hope allowed herself a small smirk at the name of her self-proclaimed aunt. "—for comedy, Melpomene for tragedy, Terpsichore for dance, Erato for love poetry, Polyhymnia for sacred poetry, and Urania for astronomy."

Hope's brow creased as if she was trying to see where Daphne was going with the explanation, but Hermione was completely lost.

"But there's this Roman scholar named Varro that believed there were only three Muses," Daphne continued, frowning over the words before reciting word for word, " 'one who is born from the movement of water, another who makes sound by striking the air, and a third who is embodied only in the human voice'. The first one is called Melete for practice, the second, Mneme for memory, and Aoide for song. He thought the three made a 'complete picture of poetic art in ritual practice'."

"You want to use those ones then?" Hope asked.

"Well, I figured the Mneme sounds kind of like you, and Hermione's all about practice makes perfect, so she's Melete all the way—"

"I'm just going to take that as a compliment," Hermione muttered decisively, blinking thickly in order to stay awake (her dream charts were not helping matters).

"So are you a good singer, Daphne?" Hope's eyes gleamed. "To fit Aoide?"

Daphne rolled her eyes, tugging the map where it had been shut between the pages of her Charms book, pulling out her wand. "I'm just saying what if we changed it to this?"

She murmured an altering spell under her breath and the words on the cover altered for Hope and Hermione to see: Melete, Aoide, and Mnem _e_ Purveyors of Aids to Magical Intrigue are proud to present The Muse's Map.

"I like it," Hermione said.

"Me too," Hope said.

"Much better than those three you came up with before," Hermione felt the need to point out and Hope's expression soured into a pout.

"I came up with those _on the fly!"_

"To very _inspirational_ for a _Muse,"_ Hermione said so slyly that Daphne was actually impressed as Hope fell back with a few seething mutters in Greek that Daphne couldn't hear but was almost certain were insults. And she couldn't help but laugh with Hermione.

* * *

Hope had an aversion to the Quidditch Field after that incident that had caused the stands to break down around her, so while most of the school had headed off in the direction of the pitch, she'd grabbed her bag and headed off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest with a few jars in her bag, leaving Hermione and Daphne to tail anxiously after her.

"You know there is a reason that this place is called the _Forbidden Forest_ , right?" Daphne inquired, looking around cautiously as they went further in.

The trees were thick and twisted, the kind whose shadow you wouldn't want to see through the rolling fog, but today it was clear, though Hope was almost certain that the further in they went, the darker it would become, the thick copse of trees blocking out the sun.

"I just want to see if they've got any good plants growing around," Hope said, easing carefully past a tree.

"You know this was a turn of events I never expected when Hope and I became friends," Hermione muttered to Daphne as the blonde grabbed her arm quickly as she tripped over a loose stone, almost falling to the ground without the aid of Hermione's arm, "Hope being a _wild child."_

Daphne snorted.

"I heard that," Hope's voice echoed tartly to the front of them and they both shared a smile as they darted after her.

She was kneeling in the dirt, examining some of the plants poking out from under the sparse grass. Hope had dressed casual for going out into the forest, her hair red and pulled back into a simple ponytail, wearing denim and plaid and her trusty boots.

Daphne doubted she even cared about the stains that would undoubtedly be present on the knees of her jeans.

"You're such a _nerd,"_ Daphne said as Hope examined a few flowers. "Almost everyone's off watching the Quidditch match and here you are, _picking flowers."_

"You're here too," Hope pointed out as she pressed her hand against the ground with a soft murmur of a spell that had her eyes gleam an impossible green and a few more flowers protruded from the earth, blooming before their eyes.

That was one of the main parts of the herbals part of Earth Magick, Daphne remembered, always give what you take away, just like how for every tree that was cut down on the Potter Lands was replaced with another.

"Yeah, well, we find you just a bit more exciting than a Quidditch match," Daphne acquiesced, causing Hermione to burst into giggles. "And you might, you know, _die,_ if we're not around."

Hope rolled her eyes, taking the flowers and sticking them into one of her jars before straightening up, eyes scrutinizing the surrounding area.

She'd heard that there were a lot of creatures in the forest, but she hadn't seen much more than a few questionable spiders, but it was possible that a bit further in there might be a bit more creatures to be concerned about.

Hope's eyes caught something silver and then she was moving carefully over a small sloping hill, her fingers roving over the rigid bark of the tree, of the silver shine against the bark.

Her fingers came back wet with something that looked a lot like molten silver.

"What's that supposed to be?" Hermione asked curiously when she and Daphne had caught up.

"No idea," Hope said, noticing the same silver stain along the earth, "want to find out?"

Hermione looked uneasy but Daphne was intrigued, following after Hope as she started moving once more.

It ended smeared over a fallen tree not too far in from where Hope had found the first stain.

She peered over it curiously, her eyes going comically wide. "Oh my _Gods,"_ she said out loud in a stage-whisper, looking at Daphne and Hermione with her eyes still wide, "I think this is from a _dead unicorn!"_

" _What?"_ Hermione walked past the trunk to stare.

It was so white and gleaming in the sunlight that dappled through the branches overhead that it was a contrast with the undergrowth, its mane shining and its eyes cloudy.

Hermione had never seen anything quite so beautiful or so sad.

"That silver stuff must've been its blood," Daphne realized, crouching to examine a gash on its flank. "Who'd want to kill a unicorn?"

"Who indeed," another voice commented and all three girls whipped around to see a centaur step into view, its hooves making more sound than them at the moment. It had pale eyes and even paler hair to go with the palomino body of a horse that it possessed.

" _Oh,"_ Hermione positively squeaked.

"I am Firenze," the centaur said as he approached and Hope couldn't help but notice that he towered over them, "you are students at the school?"

Hope regained the use of her tongue first, but barely. "Er, yes," she said, "I'm Hope Potter, and this is Daphne Greengrass, and Hermione Granger." She gestured to her friends in turn as his eyes traced over her fairly obvious scar in a manner that Hope was accustomed to.

"The Potter girl," he murmured, more to himself than to the girls, "you should turn back, the forest is not safe at this time…especially for you."

Hope frowned, not understanding.

"What happened to the unicorn?" Daphne asked bravely, tilting her head back in order to meet his eyes.

Instead he posed a question of his own: "Do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," all three said honestly in unison. They'd never used anything like unicorn blood in potions class, only the horn and tail.

"That is because it is a _monstrous_ thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze in a grim manner that sent a shiver down Hope's spine. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an _inch_ from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenceless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a _cursed life_ , from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Hope knelt suddenly to wipe the silver bloodstained-hand into the dirt at the realization of just how dangerous it was.

"Would anyone really be that foolish?" Hope asked out loud. Stupid sounded a bit too harsh to her mind, so foolish it was. "If it's as cursed as you say, wouldn't dying be better?"

"It would be," Firenze said, dipping his head slightly in agreement, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else –something that will bring you back to full strength and power– something that will mean you can never die. Miss Potter, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher's Stone!" Hermione gasped. "Of course, it makes the Elixir of Life, granting immortality, but—"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?" An eyebrow was crooked and Hope felt as though ice water had been dumped over her, remembering her nightmares of high-pitched laughter and a flash of green.

 _Voldemort_ , she thought viciously with her teeth clenched. Remus had once mentioned the rumour of the fact that Voldemort might not be as dead as everyone thought. _Could it be true?_

"You should return to the school," the centaur said, nodding in the direction that they'd come in, and for once the three didn't argue, mulling over the information he had imparted upon them.

They turned and headed back in the direction of the castle when they heard a pair of voices, forcing them to duck out of sight.

Hope didn't dare to peer around the tree she'd hidden behind, but she could make out Quirrell's voice easily.

"…d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..." he managed to stutter out and Hope didn't need to guess who his companion was.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," came Snape's tone, as frosty as Daphne's when she was in a mood. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

Hope blinked as Quirrell tried to stutter out a reply, but it just sounded like garbled mess to Hope's ears.

Her scar ached.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" Snape's voice came again, almost a bark.

"B-b-but Severus, I–"

"You don't _want_ me as your enemy, Quirrell." it was a warning now, that was rather plain to Hope.

"I-I don't know what you—" Quirrell stuttered again.

"You know perfectly well _what I mean."_

Hope's scar throbbed painfully on her forehead and she gritted her teeth together, trying to focus on what was being said.

"—your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting." Hope had no idea what he was talking about, but she was almost certain Quirrell did, despite his stammered denial.

"Very well," Snape said curtly. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

Hope chanced at peering around her tree to see Snape's back leaving the forest behind and Quirrell where he stood.

Daphne's eyes were wide behind the large rock she'd chosen, and Hope couldn't see where Hermione had disappeared.

Then she heard something that sounded vaguely like hissing from Quirrell's turban.

"The curse failed, but don't worry, my master, I will find another way," he murmured as though speaking to someone, without even a trace of a stutter.

The blood fled from Hope's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope's going to be suspicious of both of them now, that's going to be interesting to write. I've never done that before.
> 
> The matter concerning the Siren and the call of the sea won't be important until the end of book two, but the groundwork's there. You'll learn more about Nelda then, too.
> 
> Cassius will also be seen from time to time, so look forward to that.
> 
> I changed the Muses names because I found something that I liked better, and I didn't really like the names I'd come up with.
> 
> There aren't too many chapter of book one left. :)


	17. The Hidden Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I thought that there'd be a few more chapters, but this chapter will be the finale of book one, which means it might be longer than my chapters usually are, so I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> We almost hit 200k words with the first book alone, so that's really impressive.

Hope didn't trust Quirrell after that day in the Forbidden Forest. She couldn't imagine who else he could've been talking about, particularly when talking about a curse that failed.

It made her go and think back to when she'd been having all of those little accidents. The branch that had broken over her head, the broken end impaling the ground where Hope had previously been standing. The three times she'd almost tripped over a balcony. The stands breaking around her during the Quidditch match.

"Okay," Hermione said, "there _are_ too many coincidences, I'll admit."

Hope arched an eyebrow. "It that _all?"_

Breezy February had smoothly transitioned into a temperate March, the grass returning to its usual green, plants sprouting from the earth.

Hope was in a better mood than she'd been in weeks, ever since that conversation they'd overheard between Quirrell and Snape, ever since Firenze the centaur had explained things. Daphne was of the personal mind that Hope was becoming one with the earth, that was why she was in a better mood now that it had warmed.

In retort, Hope had offered to throw her over a balcony.

Hermione had begun studying for their final exams, which was mildly startling since their exams weren't until June, but Hermione did have more exams than Daphne and Hope had to be concerned about. Hope could still see the delicate chain around her neck that she knew hid the Time-turner she used to get to her classes.

Hope knew Hermione well enough to know that the weight of her classes was too much to consider taking them on the next year. There were ever-present exhaustion circles under her eyes that she had never seemed to be without the whole year.

It made Hope glad that she was only taking two electives in the stead of five.

Currently the three of them were under the shade of the willow tree that rested at the edge of the Black Lake. They weren't the only ones enjoying the flush of good weather. There was a hum of voices around them, but their spot had been claimed and no one was brave enough to come close to where they were sitting. Daphne's reputation as an ice queen had spread and Hope was generally treated with caution, barring most Slytherins, of course, they treated her with outright dislike.

"I've decided to drop some classes," Hermione informed them and Hope actually looked up from her copy of _The Hobbit_. "This year was way too…much."

"Isn't that the truth?" Daphne snorted. She had her back to the trunk of the tree, reading the Witch Weekly magazine with vague interest.

"I'm _very_ close to walking out of Divination," Hermione confided in them, but it wasn't really new information.

Hermione had been annoyed with the class for about as long as she'd been taking it, which was saying something. Hope wondered if she'd ever had such a negative reaction to a class before.

Evidently, Professor Trelawney's way of greeting a new class involved predicting the death of a student each year –none of which had yet died, it was needed to be pointed out– and she had chosen Hermione on the very first day.

" _Death surrounds you, my dear_ ," Professor Trelawney had said sadly during the first lesson, patting her hand sadly in a way that had made Hermione want to recoil.

She always seemed ready for Hermione to drop dead, which only made Hermione want to be as far from the professor –if she could even be called that– as it was feasibly possible.

"Does she still think you're going to die?" Daphne's lips twitched, and Hermione knew it was to hide a smile. She wanted to swipe the look right off her face.

" _Unfortunately,"_ Hermione grumbled.

"Maybe you should tell her it's probably just because, you know, you've met _Death,"_ Hope suggested, resting with her stomach to the grass, smirking into her book.

"Because that'll go over well." Hermione rolled her eyes. "And we've barely met. You know him best, he's your grandfather, _remember?"_

"Actually, I think Thalia probably knows him _best…"_

Hermione did her best to ignore Hope. "This class is going to be the _death_ of me."

"I'm sure that's what Trelawney's going for," Daphne suggested and Hermione glared.

Hope shut her book and sat up, scowling across the lake to where she could see just make out the hint of Quirrell's turban as he spoke with someone who could've only been Professor McGonagall with those emerald robes. "What is he playing at?"

"Who?"

" _Quirrell!"_ Hope hissed, her eyes still fixed on his location. "He's going around acting like nothing's wrong! Him and Snape! They haven't tried to go near the third floor corridor _once_ since the forest!"

Hope had been checking their map almost obsessively, and neither had been doing anything that was out of the ordinary. And that itself was the worrisome part.

"Maybe they've got a plan of when to take the Stone?" Daphne surmised, blue eyes peering over the magazine.

"Snape did say something about 'hocus pocus'," Hermione pointed out, "maybe there's other enchantments protecting the Stone, maybe something that Quirrell did himself that Snape needs to get past."

That made it seem more like Quirrell was an innocent bystander, but Hope was far too wary to believe that for a second.

She rubbed a hand furiously over her aching forehead. The pain had been on and off for awhile now and Hope was seriously contemplating mixing up a potion for pain.

A frown creased her brow as she looked across the Black Lake, but Quirrell's figure had disappeared back in the direction of the castle.

She had a bad feeling about him.

* * *

Hermione was ready to kill someone, which was saying something, because that line of thinking was something Hope was better known for, albeit more likely to be muttered lowly under her breath.

Divination was a _menace._

Hope and Daphne might've had an interest in it, but Hermione had read those books on the subject in Hope's library, and she could solidly say that those books had more substance than anything Hermione had learned in class.

Of course, Hope and Daphne didn't take as seriously as Professor Trelawney did, it was regarded more as something that was vaguely interesting, and Hope preferred tarot cards than crystal balls.

A scowl drew Hermione's downwards as she sat between Angelina and Lee, the only table in the stuffy room that had three people due to there being an odd number in the class.

It was hard for Hermione was even take a word of what Trelawney said seriously when she talked the way she did, like she was mostly in a daydream and very little in reality.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," Professor Trelawney said as she swayed around the room, eyes unfocused, magnified behind her large glasses. The end of her shawl came dreadfully close to catching on fire from a nearby lit candle. _If only_. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes—" Hermione rolled her eyes obviously and Lee and Angelina, who by now were rather aware of her dubious belief in the class, had to stifle their sniggers. "—so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class."

Staring into a cloudy crystal ball was not how Hermione wanted to spend her afternoon. Hope was probably up in Morea's Room, or that small island a short distance from the castle, practicing Earth Magick, and Daphne was probably putting a few finishing touches on that essay she'd wanted Hermione to look over after class.

They'd been the smart ones, choosing not to take Divination. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were far more intriguing and challenging, and at least she had Hope and Daphne with her during it. Her house-mates in Divination weren't bad, of course. Fred and George kept her amused and Lee and Angelina listened to her muffled complaints without judgment…still, it wasn't the same.

Hermione scowled at the swirling mist in the crystal ball.

"This is a complete waste of time," Hermione muttered fiercely under her breath after ten minutes had passed. "I could be off preparing for my exams, but _no,_ I'm here looking into a glass ball that shows absolutely _nothing!"_

She fell abruptly silent at their professor, and she used that term very loosely, moved past them, asking if anyone needed help interpreting the images within the orb, which was to say _nothing._

"It could be worse," Lee whispered back, dark eyes gleaming. "You could actually be seeing things."

Angelina snorted loudly, loud enough to garner Professor Trelawney's disapproval.

"Now, _really!"_ Professor Trelawney clucked her tongue in disapproval, picking their table out easily as the source of the noise and Hermione's heart sank right into her stomach. She wasn't going to come over to them, was she? "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!"

Unfortunately for Hermione, Professor Trelawney approached the table to scrutinize their crystal ball.

She couldn't go more than two weeks without bringing up Hermione's supposed death in the future, and Hermione couldn't even last more than one lesson of her doing so, that much she was certain of.

"There is something here!" Professor Trelawney's eyes gleamed like pale moons reflected in a calm tide. "Something moving…but what is it?"

Hermione wanted to take her _Unfogging the Future_ book from her bag and actually smack the professor with it, and Hermione wasn't a violent person. She was about as nonviolent as they came, but Hope's dry humour and Daphne's sharp tongue had rubbed off on her.

"My dear," Her eyes fixed sadly on Hermione, with an expression that one might wear at the bedside of a dying friend, "It is here, plainer than ever before... my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer... the Gr–"

"Colour me surprised that it's the Grim." The words had left Hermione's lips before she could stop them, and she found that she didn't really want to stop them once they were out. She could see Fred and George behind Professor Trelawney wearing identical expressions of mirth. Neither of their expressions helped matters, nor did how Angelina and Lee's shoulders shook with the strain of maintaining silence despite being so utterly amused.

The eyes that had been so unfocused before suddenly sharpened as Professor Trelawney drew herself up to her full height, eyes burning, incensed at Hermione's words.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear," she spoke in a clipped tone that wouldn't have been remiss with Professor McGonagall, "it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so _hopelessly mundane."_

Hermione was briefly stunned that a teacher would actually insult her to her face, and then she thought of Salazar Slytherin who had once surveyed her with interest after she had debated the worth of apotropaic magic compared to regular protective warding and said: _"You are a credit to your family, Miss Granger."_ And Hermione had never felt so honestly flattered that the one Hogwarts founder she would have thought would take issue with her based on her blood, hadn't.

Salazar Slytherin had seen her value in the midst of voicing what might've been an unpopular opinion, but Professor Trelawney, a teacher, heard an opinion against her own, and basically called her close-minded, which Hermione thought was a bit rich, coming from _her._

The silence descended, and Hermione very nearly stood and walked right out without another word to the witch, but she'd been around Hope and Daphne far too long to not think about getting the last word.

Hermione stood up so suddenly that the table shook, and even though it didn't do much to improve her height. " _Hopelessly mundane?"_ she repeated archly. "Why don't _you_ try this on for size? According to the Ancient Arts, Divination is an art to be used sparingly as the events predicted with the Divining Arts may approach closer than the caster is aware of and often they're too vague to be taken at face value. Besides, casting runes is _far_ more trustworthy than divining with a crystal ball."

She stuffed her book back into her bag, hooking the strap onto her shoulder with so much force that it almost hit Lee as it swung wildly at her side.

"And also, the Death card I drew the week we covered tarot had nothing to do with death or dying, it means 'transformation', but in the case of the card being reversed, it would be 'resistance to change', which would be better suited for you, I think."

Professor Trelawney had a hand to her chest, stunned at the retaliation against her person, and the whole room had fallen silent with wonder.

It gave her a thrill like nothing else as she walked to the trapdoor that had led up into the room, kicked it open, and slid down the ladder to land on her feet.

"You're out early."

Hermione blinked, turning to see that Daphne was sitting on the ground, reading the book on Divination –proper Divination–one that Hope and Hermione had gotten her for her recent birthday, having more to do with Seers and Oracles than anything else, her bag resting beside her, clearly waiting for Hermione.

"Hope was going to come by in about—" Daphne checked the watch on her arm. "—half an hour and we were going to wait for you together."

It was times like these that Hermione couldn't help but feel as though she took her friends for granted.

"Did class get out early?" Daphne asked, replacing her book into her bag and standing up to consider the trapdoor on the ceiling, but no one was following after Hermione, which was odd, because she and Hope had been by before to wait for Hermione and everyone in the class seemed to race to get out of the classroom.

"No, it's just…" Hermione bit her lip, the gravity of her actions catching up with her. "I quit."

"You _quit?"_ Daphne repeated.

"And I might've insulted Trelawney," Hermione conceded with a wince.

Daphne grinned widely, looping her arm through Hermione's. "Oh, we gotta tell Hope! We're rubbing off on you!"

"You are _not!"_ Hermione disagreed, but she still allowed her friend to tug her along, making for the stairs that twisted in a spiral, leading downwards to the main level.

" _Hey, Hope!"_ Hope evidently was on her way up to meet them, wearing the same plaid and denim that she always did when she was practicing her Earth Magick. The tips of her fingers were blackened and her eyebrows were slightly singed.

But she still smiled. "Hey, I was just coming up to—"

"Hermione just walked out of Divination," Daphne informed the third member of their grouping rather gleefully.

"Wow," Hope's singed eyebrows rose on her forehead, clearly impressed. "Didn't think you'd have it in you."

Hermione glared.

Hope spun her arm through Hermione's free one. "Come on, Hermione, you hated that class, it was driving you completely mental, remember? At least this way you have one less class to study for."

Hermione groaned but didn't bother denying the truth.

* * *

The hot water soothed as it burned over skin as Hope tangled her fingers into her hair, letting the water soak through the hair.

It was early in the morning, like most days that she awoke in Hogwarts. Late days were for the breaks at Potter Manor where she didn't have to worry about people trying to kill her.

Her fingers smoothed over her wrist, where the constellation of Aquila was formed against her skin, the small stars appearing as dark moles than anything else. She didn't think that Hermione or Daphne had even noticed, but it wasn't like they paid a lot of attention to her wrist at any point in time.

Her other hand found the notch of her spine below her neck, rubbing at the spot there before murmuring the words: _**"Dermatostixía asterión"**_

A few spots down her spine warmed and Hope turned off the water and whipped the towel around her.

If she'd bothered to look in the mirror she would seen the stars forming down her spine in the constellation of Serpens, a fitting tattoo for a descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

* * *

Alicia took Study of Ancient Runes with Hope, Hermione, and Daphne so she'd asked the three if they wanted to study for the final exam together, and it was probably the best idea she'd had in the past few hours.

It was clearly Hope's favourite subject, if her enthusiasm was to be believed, and all the girls seemed to have some understanding of the runes that had been tripping her up all year.

"All right…what is the rune for…wealth, wildness, vitality, and fertility?" Hope asked consulting her notes.

It was a game of sorts, with everyone tallying if they got their question correct. The winner got a chocolate frog, which wasn't much, but it was more than Alicia had eaten in a few hours, so it made her rather determined to get it.

It'd only been two weeks since Hermione had walked out of Divination while still managing to insult the teacher, a fact that made her practically famous in Gryffindor House. It had resulted in there being a meeting between Professor McGonagall and Hermione, during which Hermione had proceeded to explain, word for word, all that she had said to Professor Trelawney, and since she didn't outright or obviously insult her, Hermione managed to get away with it, with Professor McGonagall shaking her head in exasperation.

Alicia screwed up her face in thought as she tried to remember. "It's…er…Fehu?" She was almost sure it was wrong.

"Correct," Hope said, giving Alicia a mark on the parchment under her name before turning to Hermione. "What god is Fehu associated with?"

"Freya," Hermione said, frowning at her, "I thought you were going to practice EM with Sal today?"

Alicia had no way to really understand what those letters and that name meant.

"It's a study day," Hope said, adding a notch under Hermione's name. "And he thinks I need to focus on this magic a bit more."

Alicia's brow furrowed in confusion. _This magic?_ What did that even _mean?_ But Alicia doubted she'd ever understand Hope Potter, the girl made a habit of disappearing off with her friends into the unknown. Fred and George were a bit annoyed about that, she didn't know why, though, probably because they wanted to ask them about those pranks they'd played on them at the beginning of the school year…

"You're too obsessed," Daphne snorted with her arms and ankles crossed where they were sitting in the stone courtyard, sunlight falling down over them. Hope was the only sitting half concealed in shade. "One day you're going to just break your wand yourself and run off into the mist."

Hope rolled her eyes, turning slightly to smirk at her friend. "Daphne! Draw me the Fehu rune!"

"I hate you," Daphne said, taking the parchment and quill from her friend.

"Are you all always like this?" Alicia inquired, eyebrows arching.

"Depends on the day," Hermione said rather dryly, "they're rather full of dry wit and sarcasm."

" _Hey!"_ Daphne complained while Hope scowled towards a group of Ravenclaw girls occupying the other side of the courtyard. Alicia chanced a look over and they all seemed to be laughing about something.

"I think those girls are making fun of me again," Hope said with narrowed eyes. One of them Alicia knew from class to be dating an older Slytherin.

"Does it bother you?" she asked suddenly and Hope blinked, looking at her in surprise. She looked younger then, eyes greener, hair darker, cheeks more rounded, nothing like the calm mask she generally wore around school. "What people say about you?"

"Well, yeah," Hope said, another scowl appearing on her lips, "but you can't change what people think. Everyone in Slytherin's hated me since the year started—" Daphne cleared her throat. "—well, almost everyone. Too many people expected me to get into Gryffindor, I think. I've got too much Slytherin blood in me, though." She winked at Alicia and Alicia tried to comprehend what that meant as Hope leaned over to point her finger to the ground near the girls.

 _ **"Fídi emfanízetai** ** _,_ "**_ Hope murmured, her eyes blazing green briefly and the next moment there was a piercing scream from the girls at the presence of the snake hissing at their ankles.

Alicia stared as Hope sniggered to herself and cupped her hands around her mouth, calling over to them "Karma's a bitch, isn't she?"

There were a few furious glares in her direction.

"Hope, that's not how you make friends," Hermione said, but her lips twitched a bit too much to be taken seriously.

"It's just a tiny spell, oh, look at him go," Hope sounded almost fond, waving to the small garden snake as it slithered past them. "Bless him, he almost bit them."

Daphne was trying so hard to stifle her amusement that her shoulders were shaking violently.

"You're ridiculous," Alicia said in awe, "was that wandless magic?"

"Eh, maybe?" Hope gave a so-so gesture as one of the girls stomped towards them.

"I know that was you, Potter!" she hissed, hazel eyes dark and furious. Alicia tried to remember her name…what was it? Felicity Eastchurch, wasn't it?

"Really?" Hope's eyebrows rose in surprise that was clearly faked. "But I'm over here minding my own business, studying for an exam and you're over there making fun of a girl for wearing up her hair every day and having a personality like a brick." Her tone had grown steadily frostier and Felicity recoiled sharply, surprised that she'd heard all that.

Felicity maintained eye contact with Hope for exactly ten more seconds before stalking off with her posse in tow.

"Why did they care about your hair?" Hermione asked, scowling after them.

"Because there's nothing to hide, I assume," Hope said, making a face like a grimace, "no love bites."

"You're _eleven!"_

"I think they're saying that no one would go for her _at all,"_ Daphne winced as she pointed it out.

"Oh."

"Who cares about romance when there's branches of magic to study, guys?" Hope's eyes gleamed impossibly bright, turning hazel in her excitement.

There was something really pure about that, Alicia had to admit as she smiled, Hope being so utterly unconcerned about anyone romantically in favour of studying magic.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Alicia laughed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you before."

"Well, good," Hope grumbled sourly, "it would be boring if you had."

"You should go off with Sal," Hermione suggested, swiping the notes from her hands, "you already know all these runes, anyways."

Hope leapt to her feet to snatch the notes back. "You don't know that," she said hotly. "Exam day might come around and I will completely blank, I promise you, it happens _every time."_

"Oh come on, you'll be fine for Ancient Runes," Daphne said wryly, "it's everything else you've got to worry about."

Hope downright glowered at her blonde friend. _"Thanks_ for that, Daphne."

Daphne showed her pearly teeth. "I'm just here to keep things real, you know."

"You're a terrible friend," Hope grated, "and just for that I'm going to take a point away."

"What? _No!"_ Daphne was outraged, trying to snatch the parchment out of her hands. "That's not fair!"

Hermione watched them for a few moments before picking up the fallen notes. "They'll get tired eventually…do you know the difference between Ehwaz and Eihwaz?"

* * *

"Okay, but how did you find all these passageways?"

"You have exactly one second to remove your arm before I think up a good curse for you, Weasley."

Fred grinned widely, removing his arm from where he'd flung it familiarly over her shoulder, peering over her shoulder to look to the map in her arms.

"Don't you two have classes to study for?" Hope asked petulantly. Daphne and Hermione were in the Great Hall, they were helping Hermione study for Care of Magical Creatures, but Hope had studied so much for Potions the previous day that the words had started to float off the page, so she'd taken a break.

It was the second week of May and the castle grounds had warmed considerably, the lake glittering under the clear sunlight, the patches of green grass spreading to cover the whole grounds. Hope, Hermione, and Daphne had decided to stop studying outside because of their tendency to get distracted by the warmth and the other students milling about.

The other students were taking advantage of the nice weather, but the girls were taking advantage of the time they had to study for their exams. Remus' finals were hard, but they had no idea what to expect for final exams at Hogwarts (it was probably a bit harder than their usual exams, but they couldn't really be certain).

"There's three _weeks_ until exams," George pointed out at her other side and Hope rolled her eyes. She wasn't stupid enough to start studying the day before her exams. "Did you really curse Eastchurch?"

The rumour had spread like wildfire, like things always did with a rumour grapevine like the one Hogwarts had. Hope surmised that the girl and her friends weren't very fond of snakes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hope said smoothly, rounding a corner, with her eyes still focused on the map. "My wand was in my bag the whole time." Which was very true, Hope hadn't touched her wand during the whole exchange.

"Alicia said it was wandless magic," Fred interjected with a grin, peering down at her and Hope was rather painfully aware of the height difference between her and the boys, a fact that always irritated her greatly. "Which is supposed to be really hard to do…how'd you do it?"

Hope's eyes narrowed with intrigue. They were curious; that was adorable. "Boys," she said, her lips curling in amusement, "if I told you _all_ my tricks then where would be the _mystery?"_

The twins groaned in unison as they followed her down the hallway, and George leaned slightly to the side in order to see the cover of the map.

"You all changed your names," he noticed.

Hope shrugged. "Our first ones weren't that great." Though she had suggested them, so that might've been the reason.

"What'd they change them to?" Fred asked his twin over Hope's head, but Hope answered before he could stumble over the spelling and pronunciation.

"Aoide, Melete, and Mneme," Hope said, hoping that would shoo them off, but they stuck around.

"Sounds… _Greek,"_ George said and Hope scrutinized him for the longest time as he grinned easily.

"You two are hopeless," she decided, rolling her eyes as she came to a stop in front of the large mirror on the fourth floor, the one that had a passage that led into Hogsmeade, and one that all three knew to be blocked off.

"Er, Hope?"

Hope ignored them as she undid the latch on the side that kept the mirror locked into the wall, moving it forward just slightly enough for herself, pulling her wand out and incanting the wand-lighting spell before slipping through the space between.

"She does know that it's blocked off back there, doesn't she?" Fred asked, staring after the girl in bemusement. She had certainly said as much when she was listing off the passages out of the school back when she'd been comparing the two maps side by side.

"I'm pretty sure," George replied with a frown, before, by silent agreement, they decided to follow after her.

The passage was as blocked off as it had been the last time they'd set foot in it, and both knew that wasn't likely to change. Hope had dumped her bag against the side of the wall that was still stable, frowning at the stones that had been piled jaggedly.

Then she tucked her lit wand behind her ear with an annoyed mutter.

It was Salazar's suggestion, putting her Earth Magick skills to good use, working a spell on the very foundations of the castle. He hadn't suggested that particular level, but Hope had figured why not.

"Don't you two have anything better to do?" Hope asked loudly as she smoothed a hand over the jagged stone.

"Probably not," Fred grinned. "Are you going to be doing any of that wandless magic you claim you haven't done?"

Hope rolled her eyes at the sniggers behind her, pressing both of her hands firmly against the roughly broken stones.

 _ **"Spasméno ananeónetai,"**_ she said, green eyes glowing eerily in the darkness and she removed her hands and stepped back quickly as the tunnel shook and trembled around them, and she heard more than saw Fred and George come to a stop behind her, stunned in awe as the stone parted and returned to the cracks in the walls and the ceiling until there was no damage remaining, leaving the tunnel looking as though no damage had previously been done.

She swiped her hands together before moving to grab her bag and turn to consider them, bemused by their wonder.

A snort of amusement passed her lips as she walked past them.

"I think she might be Merlin," Fred said to George as they were left in the darkness.

"I don't want to be around when you tell her that," his twin said rather sagely.

* * *

"Travelling by mirror? You're joking, right?"

Hope's expression soured. "I'm just saying it was an interesting _concept."_

They were all on the small island that Hope and Salazar used to practice Earth Magick outside of school, and the only way they'd all gotten there was by bribing the Weasley twins into borrowing their broomsticks for a few hours for a crate of seven Butterbeers, which Hope thought was a bit much but she wasn't going to complain.

"Does it sound crazy?" Daphne appealed to Salazar, who was sitting with his back to a tree, listening to the debate with vague interest.

"It's far from impossible," Salazar had to agree with Hope, "it certainly would be very interesting to see…being able to travel from one reflective surface to the next."

"You mean, like you could step into the ocean and you could come out of the mirror in your room?" Hermione inquired dubiously.

The Slytherin founder gave a simple shrug. "A possibility," he said, "I altered the Mirror of Erised to house a pocket of space within it."

Hope's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

Salazar heaved a heavy sigh, like the topic made him vaguely uncomfortable, though Hope couldn't imagine why.

"It was a flaw," he said finally, "when I was making it, something went wrong, I could never quite say, but somehow an extendable pocket of space ended up within the mirror itself, as though it was a cupboard instead of a mirror. I only used it once."

"When was that?" Daphne asked cautiously.

Salazar's lips thinned into a line and his eyes darkened. Hope thought the look itself was quite frightening; no wonder he had inspired so much fear, even centuries after his death. "The night…Adrian lost himself completely…I found my grandson Sylvester in the sitting room of my daughter's home." He swallowed thickly. "I could hear Morea fighting with him…but I couldn't sense Nelda's magic anymore. I knew what had happened, of course, but in the moment, there was no time to grieve, I knew that if Adrian got through Morea, he'd come for Sylvester…and then he'd come for me."

He looked out on the sea and Hope wondered if he saw her there, the Sea-Witch of Fen, the girl that had run away and built a ship of her own magic and sailed the seas.

Salazar forcibly cleared his throat. "I'd given Nelda and Damian the mirror as a wedding gift, so it was still in the house, Nelda had been so utterly fascinated with it as a child that I thought it would be cruel not to gift it to her. I took Sylvester and hid him inside and went upstairs."

"Did you kill him?" Hermione asked quietly, her eyes wide as she listened to the sad tale.

"No, I _didn't,"_ Salazar said curtly, "I would've, but by the time I reached them, Adrian had gone, leaving only carnage and death in his wake…I caught up with him a month later, but his death was not my doing."

There was a story there, Hope knew, but he didn't further elaborate and she knew better than to press, she remembered the dark spread of ink across the pages at the end of his journal.

"The spell you were talking about?" Hope cleared her throat, drawing their attention away from the dark topic of Adrian Slytherin. "How does it go again?"

And she didn't think she'd ever seen him look quite so grateful for a change in topic.

* * *

Hope didn't have any idea why she was studying for Potions class at this point.

"I mean, he's just going to give me a failing grade, is there really any point?"

Hope's brain hurt from the sheer amount of studying they'd been doing the past week. And the daily throbbing of her scar certainly wasn't helping matters, but Hope wasn't about to let a scar get in the way of her passing her classes.

"Of course there's a _point!"_ Hermione was scandalized at the idea that someone didn't believe there was a point to exams. "We have to pass them to go on to fourth year!"

"Maybe you should just do really great on the written so you can flunk the practical," Daphne suggested.

"Sage advice, Greengrass," Hope snorted before almost growling at the boy that had knocked his shoulder into her, sending her careening into Hermione. "You got a problem, Flint?"

The pair had been growing steadily more antagonistic as time wore on, Hermione noticed, particularly in the past few weeks. Maybe Flint was making up for the fact that he wouldn't be able to insult Hope over summer break.

He sneered in reply. "You're in the way."

"Wow, would you look at that," Hope scrutinized the rest of the hall with interest, "the rest of the corridor is practically empty!"

The stress of the exams and her never-ending headache certainly wasn't helping things.

"I should've just been homeschooled," Hope grumbled as he stalked away from her with a superior sneer still tainting his face. "It would've been more _fun."_

Hope couldn't stop the many whispers about her, and there were many, but she rarely retaliated, unless it was against someone like Flint. The incident with Felicity Eastchurch had been a surprise, but Hermione and Daphne suspected her resolve to ignore most whispers about her was wearing a bit thin.

"Then you wouldn't see us every day," Daphne informed her conversationally.

Hope gave a soft hum that said she had to concede to Daphne's point. She was still scowling, though, and it wasn't until she reached a hand up to rub at her scar that Daphne realized how red and inflamed her skin looked.

"I'm going to head up to the hospital wing to see if Madam Pomfrey'll give me a headache potion," Hope decided finally.

Of course, when she did get the potion, it hardly helped, a fact which greatly irritated her while they were studying for Transfiguration.

So Hope stewed in her throbbing pain.

* * *

Their teachers, Hope decided, were a rather cruel lot, dropping so much homework on them even though their final exams were fast approaching. Hermione was a bundle of nerves, prone to snapping at any moment that enough of the Gryffindors knew better than to bother her when she was in the midst of studying.

Alicia still studied with them for Ancient Runes, which seemed like the best idea, because she was finally getting some of what they'd studying all year, and she _really_ needed to pass the class, if the frantic expression she wore on her face was any indication.

Hope liked Angelina and Alicia, they were enough fun to be around, and they were Hermione's dorm-mates so they were rather familiar with her bookish tendencies.

It made her and Daphne wish that their own were the same, but Isla Vaisley, Eden Rowle, and Marigold Burke couldn't have made it clearer that they despised the very idea of Hope, and Hope didn't care much for them, so they were even in that respect.

"All right, we've got big news!"

The twins barreled into the Great Hall where the girls, plus Lee, were all sitting, quizzing each other over Transfiguration concepts and wand movements.

" _Hold it!"_ Hope held up one hand to stall the flow of speech, pointing at George. "What is the correct incantation for turning a teapot into a tortoise?"

George arched an eyebrow before saying, without delay. _"Testudo muto."_

"You _guessed!"_ she accused in outrage.

She hadn't even seen the twins study… _at all!_ They were just a week away from their exams now, so Hope had taken to springing questions on them at the strangest of times, but the funny thing was the pair hadn't gotten one thing wrong, not even the tiniest detail.

It was the most infuriating thing she'd ever seen. They didn't hardly need to _try._

"Maybe you just never _see_ us study." Fred was smirking widely and Hope wanted to swipe it off his face. "Anyways…did you guys know that Hagrid had a _dragon_ in his hut?"

Lee fell out of his seat in surprise and the girls were similarly surprised. Hope thought it would have been a bit more dramatic if she'd known the gamekeeper, but she hardly did.

"He had a _what?"_ Angelina gaped, staring at him with wide eyes.

"He lives in a _wooden_ house," Hermione added, startled.

Hope shook her head in exasperation. Dragons…honestly, that was just asking for trouble. What had Hagrid been thinking?

"Dumbledore had it sent over to Romania last night," George informed them. "Charlie's probably over the moon."

"Who's Charlie?" Daphne whispered to Hope.

"Brother, I think," Hope whispered back.

"Zeus, how many brothers do they _have?"_

The twins obviously heard that comment, because their lips widened into identical grins.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For all we know that's another elaborate rumour." She knew as well as anyone else that hardly any of the rumours spread throughout the school were actually true.

Fred grinned. "It's not, we just talked with Hagrid, he's really torn up about it."

Daphne stared at him blankly. "He is aware that dragons don't stay small forever, _right?"_

Hagrid had gotten very lucky, if you asked Hope, dragons weren't beasts that were meant to be domesticated, and even if they were, they were better suited for plains and mountains than in a small hut next to a castle.

Hope's head throbbed and she groaned, burying her face into her Transfiguration book. A dragon was the least of her worries.

* * *

Hope hated exams, that much could be said. Hermione, on the other hand, _loved_ them, but Hermione had always been a bit odd. Daphne was pretty indifferent to it all.

Of course, Hope had a reason to hate exams; she could've been neck deep in Earth Magick, like she often was, but instead she was _studying_ for _exams_ , one of which she would ace without a problem and one of which she would fail no matter what her true grade was.

Hope knew she was smart, of course, she was passing all of her classes –albeit one, just barely, and through a stroke of luck– but she also knew what she'd rather be looking into, and it certainly wasn't wand-magic.

Potions was a nightmare and Hope couldn't help but get the feeling that Snape was watching her the most out of everyone, it gave her an uncomfortable feeling down her spine as she shredded her lovage into appropriately small pieces for the Confusing Concoction before dropping them into her bubbling potion, stirring occasionally.

Transfiguration and Charms were better, Professor McGonagall's eyes stern and calculating, watching the movements of her wand carefully and Professor Flitwick's gleamed with approval. Hope personally thought those exams, both written and practical, went better than Potions.

Study of Ancient Runes was the easiest for her, by far, but she'd always had had a love of runes, so it wasn't that surprising. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a bit more…complicated. Quirrell made her just as uneasy as Snape did these days, and she couldn't help but fumble a bit when he came too close to her during her written and practical exams.

Herbology was rather manageable, especially since Hope had nothing against diving into the pots full of dirt in the greenhouses. History of Magic and Astronomy were fairly straightforward, but Arithmancy was rather complicated, and Hope knew she'd screwed up at least two of the equations there.

But they were done.

"That was so _exhausting!"_ Hope braced her hands against knees once they'd walked out of their last exam, which happened to be History of Magic.

"The exam wasn't that bad," Daphne snorted, reasserting her grip on her bag, arching an eyebrow at Hope before turning her attention back to Hermione. "Did you think it was hard?"

"Not as much as I'd been expecting," Hermione admitted.

"I don't mean History of Magic," Hope countered easily. "I meant all those exams!"

"I've still got two exams to go," Hermione grumbled, more to herself than to anyone else. "By Merlin, I am dropping Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies afterwards." It was a good thing she'd withdrawn from Divination while she still could, because she couldn't imagine suffering through that exam on top of everything else.

They moved down the hallway past a few rushing Hufflepuffs that were apparently well on their way to being late for one of their own exams.

"Probably with passing grades," Daphne responded with a wide grin.

"Shut up."

Daphne and Hope waved goodbye as Hermione scampered off to do some last minute studying for Care of Magical Creatures, leaving Hope and Daphne on their own.

"The Black Lake?" Hope suggested, and Daphne concurred with a hum of agreement, looping her arm through Hope's as they made their way out of the castle and into the warmth and the sunlight. The heat of June could make anyone long to be outside.

"Are you going to Greece this summer?" Hope asked her friend as they moved into the sunlight, curving over the grass in the direction of the willow tree overlooking the Black Lake.

"Probably," Daphne frowned thoughtfully, "Nana likes having 'Storia and I around, says we keep her young."

Hope laughed at that.

"But are you going to be spending all of your summer down there? With the Blackwoods?"

"Aggie thinks I should," Hope admitted, "but I think she just wants to spend more time with me. And Thalia thinks I'm a bit cut off from the rest of the world with only Mindy and Remus in the manor."

Daphne could understand that. The manor, though wonderful, was very large and on many of the nights that she'd spent over at Hope's during their time of being tutored by Remus, she'd found it rather eerie.

"But I think I'm going to stick to staying at home for a week or two," Hope added, drawing Daphne's attention back. "There's some exploring I want to do of the Potter Lands."

Daphne didn't think that Hope had ever been fully aware of just how far her borders stretched. The forest and the seaside were lovely, particularly in the summertime, but she was sure that the Potter Lands had more to offer than what was seen by the naked eye.

"I've got an estate in Greece, anyways, so we'll probably just stay down there…Galen and Thalia will probably be working a lot, but Aggie's really excited about showing me the old ruins." Hope's eyes gleamed brightly and Daphne was glad she'd met someone so likeminded who was also related to her, albeit rather distantly.

"Remus is teaching a class down there over the summer, anyways," Hope continued, "a seminar on Dark Creatures for the Greek Auror Force. He's looking forward to it, and I think the sun would do us both some good."

Daphne dropped her bag to the ground, plopping down beside it with a sigh. "Remus was a great teacher, lucky them."

Hope smiled.

* * *

They sat for the longest time under the tree, waiting for Hermione to come out of the class, so long that Hope actually ended up falling asleep.

Most of her dreams these days revolved around a flash of green light and high pitched screams, but it wasn't like she'd had that nightmare before.

"Hey, Hope?"

Hope roused at the sound of her voice, blinking a few times as she squinted at the speaker. Daphne and Hermione were looking at her in concern; Hermione must've gotten out of her exams sometime while she was asleep.

"You were mumbling and wincing," Daphne said as Hermione's brow creased, and Hope raised a hand to rub at her scar again. "How's your forehead?"

"Painful," Hope grumbled before looking to Hermione. "How'd your exams go?"

"Better than I'd thought," Hermione admitted, a smile lighting her face, "but I still told Professor Kettleburn and Burbage that I was done with both classes."

Daphne snorted. "How'd they take that?"

"Burbage was pretty good about it…Professor Kettleburn patted my shoulder and said _'me too'_."

Hope sniggered. There was a story there, she was sure.

Daphne was flipping through Hope's book on Earth Magick, something she'd been doing before Hope had fallen asleep.

"You know, some of these spells have a requirement of unrefined gold," Daphne pointed out.

Hope closed her eyes briefly. "I know," she groaned, "and all I've got is refined, I'm going to be annoyed until the _end of time."_

Her friends both laughed and Hope opened her eyes once more.

She looked across the lake, where a lot of students were now milling about now that the majority of exams were done. She could just make out Quirrell's turban in the distance and it made her scowl.

"Why d'you think neither of them have gone for the stone?" she asked out loud, still scrutinizing the professor with annoyance. She'd been expecting him or Snape to do something all week, but there was still nothing.

Hermione looked up from reading one of the pages of the book over Daphne's shoulder. "Maybe it's more about someone being around."

Daphne's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, everyone says that Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of," Hermione explained, "maybe Snape won't pull anything until Dumbledore's away from the school…if he ever is."

"But you don't think he's figured out how to get past Fluffy, has he?" Daphne inquired. "I mean, Snape had to've tried to get past it before, right? That's why he had that limp, remember?"

Hope remembered, but it was still guesswork. It wasn't like anyone had ever bested a three-headed dog before.

But they had, hadn't they?

Hope pulled out her two-way mirror in a hurried movement that surprised her friends. "Aggie Blackwood," she said very clearly.

It took a few moments for her cousin's face to reflect in the compact. Her blue eyes were shining and she was smiling; Hope could hear laughter in the background.

" _Hope!"_ Aggie's face positively brightened and Hope couldn't help but smile reflexively in response. _"Hi! How're your exams going? Ours aren't until tomorrow."_ The mirror tilted in order to allow Hope to see the person she was with. He was darker than she was, his jaw line squarer, with darkly gleaming eyes. _"This is Ajax, by the way, my best friend…he's also a complete nerd."_

" _Hey!"_ Ajax complained before waving two fingers towards Hope. _"Aggie talks about you a lot."_

"Aw, I'm flattered," Hope sniggered, flitting her eyes towards Aggie, who rolled her eyes for good measure. "I was wondering if I could pick your brain about something?"

" _Sure!"_ Aggie's brow furrowed in confusion. _"What kind of thing?"_

"Greek mythology-related."

Daphne and Hermione eyed her curiously off to the side, but Hope ignored them.

" _Shoot,"_ Aggie said.

"People have gotten past Cerberus before, right?" Hope asked. "It was one of Hercules' labours, I think…"

" _Yeah, he had to bring Cerberus to the king,"_ Aggie responded with a frown, _"there was Orpheus too, though, he was the son of the muse Calliope, he went down to the Underworld to get his wife. He played a lyre, it made Cerberus fall right to sleep."_

"Hm," Hope said.

" _Why?"_ Aggie asked her with enough suspicion that Hope was proud they were related.

"I'll tell you later," Hope said, snapping the compact shut and turning to look at her friends. "We've got to go and talk to Hagrid."

"What?" Hermione uttered in befuddlement. _"Why?"_

But Hope didn't answer her, stuffing her books back in her bag and tearing off over the sprawling greenery, forcing the pair to quickly follow in order to keep from losing her.

"Where're you _going?"_ Daphne demanded, apologizing quickly to a first year Gryffindor boy she'd almost knocked over in her haste to follow after her friend, but Hope offered her no reply.

Instead of circling towards the castle, she instead curved towards the Forbidden Forest, specifically heading off towards Hagrid's hut.

The giant of a man was sitting outside, whittling what appeared to be a flute of sorts, and he was surprised by the sudden appearance of the three girls. "Well, hullo there," he said.

Not wanting to sound rude, Hope said, "Hi," before asking the question that was really on her mind while Daphne and Hermione caught their breaths. "Hagrid, has anyone ever asked you about Fluffy before?"

His bushy eyebrows rose on his brow.

"Besides us," Hope said quickly.

That made his brow furrow. "Well, there was that fellow down at the pub, the one I won Norbert from."

Norbert, Hope surmised, was the dragon.

"You _won_ the dragon?" Hermione asked dubiously, drawing the same conclusion as Daphne's eyes bulged in her skull.

"Playing cards," Hagrid agreed easily, thinking hard. "He asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks..."

Daphne made an exasperated sound that he clearly missed.

"Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy, that the trick to any beast is knowing how to calm it, like with Fluffy, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep."

Hope turned white and Hermione and Daphne were stunned.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he said quickly, but they were already gone, taking off in the direction of the Clock Tower in order to find a place to speak quietly and heatedly behind the glass dial without fear of being overheard.

"Am I the only one thinking that Snape gave Hagrid the dragon egg?" Daphne said with a breathless gasp as they came to a stop behind the pendulum as it chimed.

"Or Quirrell," Hope interjected.

"Or Quirrell," Daphne agreed.

"That's why you asked Aggie about anyone getting past Cerberus!" Hermione realized, snapping her fingers at Hope. "You thought if the original Cerberus had a weakness, than Fluffy probably had it too."

"I was thinking it might've been possible," Hope corrected. "Orpheus was a demigod, though, the son of a Muse, that probably helped."

Hope had maybe a few drops of godly blood in her veins, she hadn't been sure that anyone but someone like Orpheus could actually make something like Cerberus or Fluffy fall asleep to music. It was a relief to hear that Fluffy only required music.

"We should tell Dumbledore," Hermione said suddenly and Hope scowled at the mention of the Headmaster, something Hermione ignored as she pulled out their map in order to search for him. "Wait, he's _gone!"_

"That's not good," Daphne said, crossing her arms, her eyes flitting between her friends. "If Dumbledore's the only one keeping Snape –or Quirrell– from getting the Stone and he's gone…"

"It's the perfect opportunity to grab it," Hope agreed.

"It'll be gone by morning," Hermione was certain.

* * *

"We're all crazy, we should've told a _teacher,"_ Hermione grumbled at midnight, her voice low as they crept around in the darkness.

"I don't trust authority figures," Hope responded quietly before hissing, "quick, _hide!"_

They all ducked behind a suit of armour in a crevice to avoid being seen by the Ravenclaw patrol. If they'd had Hope's invisibility cloak, it wouldn't have mattered, but Hope had left it locked up in her trunk, more worried about losing it on the way down the trapdoor.

Dumbledore's dot hadn't reappeared by the night and Hope had lost track of Quirrell's dot, while Snape's remained in his private quarters, leading Hope to believe that Quirrell was the one behind it all, and he was done biding his time.

They waited impatiently for the patrol to pass before squeezing back out into the deserted corridor.

"Besides," Daphne hissed, "Quirrell's a teacher too." She had had to concede now that Quirrell was the likely culprit as Snape hadn't moved and Quirrell had all but disappeared.

They crept up the staircase to the third floor corridor.

"I just saying that maybe not _everyone_ that's an authority figure is _bad,"_ Hermione muttered as they stopped right outside the door that hid Fluffy.

Hope made a grunting noise. "Who's going to believe three eleven year olds? Sorry, one eleven year olds and two twelve year olds." She rolled her eyes. At least she was only three months younger than Daphne; she was already one of the youngest in the year.

Daphne ignored her, pulling out her wand and remarking at the locked door: _"Alohomora."_

It gave an ominous click before swinging open to permit them inside. The three took a brief moment to collect themselves, but there was no questioning an no turning back, so Hope took that as a good sign.

The first thing Hope heard as the door shut behind them was the strumming threads of the harp that had been set in the corner.

"Quirrell must've set up the harp," Hermione whispered quickly under her breath, uneasy in the presence of the three-headed dog that had once terrified her. "It'll probably wake up when it stops playing."

Of course, Fluffy was much less impressive when he was slumbering, paws crossed together and tongues lolling out of mouths as air whistled out of nose.

"Problem," Daphne hissed, _"the harp's music is slowing down!"_

That was true. The sound was decreasing in nose as it slowed gradually and the three of them shared a frantic realization as the three heads began to shake themselves into wakefulness, jaws yawning to expose sharp canines.

Hope was not a great singer, but she wasn't about to give up stopping now; Fluffy was just an obstacle to face.

" _Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray,_

_Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay"_

Her voice faltered in some places and she wasn't entirely sure that she was using the right tempo, but it was about as musical as she was going to get. The song was one that had been scribbled into Salazar's journal with a more feminine hand than his, leading Hope to believe it was Nelda, she _was_ the sea-witch, after all.

Daphne and Hermione looked at her in surprise. Neither could sing on command and Hermione knew her voice wasn't suited for it.

" _Conversing with a young lass, who seem'd to be in pain,_

_Saying, William, when you go, I fear you'll ne'er return again."_

Hope's heart raced, waiting for the heads of the Cerberus to make up its mind; ease into wakefulness and attack or return to slumber deep. And it was with great relief that the heads relaxed, eyes blinking lazily as they dropped back to sleep.

" _My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,_

_There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold."_

Hope made a jerking motion to her friends, eyes jumping to the trapdoor that one of the paws rested against and they spurred into action. The song could only last for so long.

" _His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal_

_My happiness attends him wherever he may go_

_From Tower Hill to Blackwall, I wander, weep and moan,_

_All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home"_

They pushed against the paw until Daphne could grip the ring of the trapdoor, creaking it open. All three peered down into the darkness.

" _Lumos,"_ Hermione murmured as Hope went on to the next verse, but the light didn't illuminate what lay beyond. "Are you seeing anything, because I'm not."

"Nothing," Daphne said, glancing to Hope who shrugged, still keeping a steady stream of song. "Leap of faith, you think?"

All three shared a look.

"I'll go first," she added brazenly before Hermione or Hope could stop her, dropping out of sight quickly, leaving Hope and Hermione to share wide-eyed looks.

"Daphne?" Hermione called cautiously as Hope went on to the next verse.

"Here," came the reply. "It's all right, the landing's soft."

Hermione cast a nervous look to Hope before swallowing her fears and lowering herself to sit at the edge, scooting off of it with a definite yelp.

" _My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,_

_There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold."_

Hope took a deep breath and jumped through the hole before the beast had the chance to realize that the music had stopped.

She landed on something strange in texture, much different than what she'd been expecting, but even Hope didn't know what that was. Her fingers smoothed over it; it was like vines wound together.

And Hope couldn't help but release a loud yell when it moved under her, trying to make a grab for her as she got quickly to her feet, stumbling backwards to avoid the vines seeking to catch a hold of her.

Where were Hermione and Daphne? There could've been only seconds –less than thirty, she was _sure–_ between when she'd jumped and when Hermione had…so where were they?

"You need to relax!" A voice called up from what Hope was sure must've been beneath the trappings of vines.

"Hermione?" Hope called nervously as a vine trapped her ankle before she could get loose, the grip tight enough to cut off circulation if prolonged. She tugged and more sprang after.

"It's Devil's Snare!" Daphne's voice piped up to add to Hermione's.

Devil's Snare…there'd been a question about it on their exam…hadn't there? Or was that from one of the exams Remus had given them? They'd all blurred together…

But where her brain failed her, her faith in her friends did not. She stilled her movements, no matter how much it strained her to do so. For a moment, nothing happened, nothing other than the tendrils of vines slowly stilling.

Hope breathed a sigh of relief only to release a startled noise when she was dragged through the vines downwards only to be dropped beneath. Her feet hit the ground and her ankles crumpled.

"Hope? Are you all right?" Her friends were kneeling next to her.

"I'm fine," Hope said, rubbing at her ankle where there was a harsh red mark from tightness of the vine that had wound there.

"I didn't know you could sing," Daphne remarked in surprise.

"Not very well," Hermione allowed herself a small smile and Hope's expression soured as they both giggled.

"It was in Salazar's journal," Hope replied defensively. "I think it was Nelda's. It was the only song I could think of."

"Lucky too," Daphne agreed, looking up at the vines as Hope drew herself to stand once more, swiping at her trousers. "Imagine if Hermione had tried to sing."

" _Hey!"_ Hermione complained.

"And lucky someone remembered how to get out of Devil's Snare," Hope cast the pair of them a grateful glance.

Hermione smiled and Daphne nodded before leading them down the pathway to what the three could only assume was the path to the next obstacle.

"How many obstacles d'you think are guarding the Stone?" Hope murmured, though in the silence it came out much louder than she'd anticipated.

"Seven probably," Daphne replied, her brow wrinkled in thought. "We're big on the number seven here, it's the most powerful magical number."

"What d'you think will happen if Quirrell gets the Stone?" Hermione asked, trailing one hand over the wet walls as they journeyed deeper and a sound not unlike wings ahead.

"I think the Elixir of Life would probably restore Voldemort's health," Hope said.

"You think he's really survived after all this time?" Daphne's blue eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Like Firenze said?"

Hope paused and the girls stopped with her, both gauging her reaction.

Hermione was pale, her French braid coming undone, and Daphne's eyes were wild, her fingers twitching slightly with unease. Hope knew she must've looked as young and afraid as they were, but that didn't stop her.

She remembered the flash of green and the high-pitched laughter, louder in her own mind than it had been before.

"I do," she said with a certainty she hoped to convey. "And I think it would be very bad if he got his body back."

"What's that sound?" Hermione said suddenly, her eyes glancing behind Hope in such a way that it made her twist around violently, expecting to someone there, but there was nothing there. Her relief almost strangled her. "It's like…I don't know, not a ghost…maybe something with wings?"

"Wings?" Daphne repeated dubiously, listening hard. "What kind of obstacle would involve _birds?"_

"Maybe one where they attack us," Hope suggested as the three of them linked their arms together.

"Maybe," Hermione had to concede in agreement as the rustling sound grew louder as they reached the end of the corridor, stepping into a chamber filled with an eerie light, its ceiling arched and rounded, extending upwards almost farther than could be seen.

Hope's eyes were fixed on the things fluttering about overhead. "They're not birds," she realized. "They're…I think they're keys!"

" _Keys?"_ Daphne goggled, following her line of sight to watch them in awe, but they were indeed keys. Bronze and gold and silver keys fluttering overhead with their own little wings. "They look so _weird."_

"Oh, that's _clever!"_ Hermione's eyes were gleaming even as she left Daphne and Hope to examine the locked door that no doubt led to the next challenge, one that not even an _Alohomora_ could open. "One of them must unlock the door, but you have to get the right one or it won't work."

Daphne moved to examine the door's lock, her fingers smoothing over the wrought-metal. "It's going to be silver, probably, to match the lock."

Hope tilted her head back to scrutinize the keys flitting about above them. The bronze ones were the prettiest; she wondered if that had been on purpose. The trouble was there were so many keys and they were all overlapping one another, making it difficult to pinpoint the silver ones that Hope had already given a once over.

It seemed to take an eternity to find, but at last her eyes caught it, a silver key with blue feathers crumpled.

She pressed a hand to her temple, right next to her right eye. _**"Máti estíasis,"**_ she said barely above a whisper, her eyes glowing green. It was a very simple spell, one for focusing on one particular item in the line of sight, but it was also rather incomplete, turning everything in her view –to her, at least– blue, with the key in particular that she'd been focusing on, gleaming white. It was rather like looking through blue-tinged lenses.

How was she supposed to get a winged key that high up?

Her foot nudged a broomstick, knocking it loose from where it was resting against the wall. She smirked; perfect.

"I'm going to try and catch it," she said, turning her eyes on her friends and both of them had to balk at the unearthly glowing blue of her eyes that was a side-effect of the spell.

"Hey, _Hope—!"_

But she'd already grabbed the broom and vaulted into the air, leaping without looking, spinning up into a storm of winged keys.

"I hate it when she does that," Hermione grumbled.

Hope was much better at flying than they were, but she'd had a bit more practice at it, flying off to that small island to practice her Earth Magick in the early morning. She wasn't great by any means; she'd almost crashed into the wall three times, tight turns were not her friend.

"How d'you think she's doing?" Hermione asked dubiously.

"No idea," Daphne said, wincing when Hope actually collided with the wall with a yelp, sliding off of it the second her fingers snagged a battered wing, and falling 20 feet to the ground heavily on her side.

Her side throbbed as she rolled onto her back and the haze of keys above her calmed.

" _Hope!"_

Daphne and Hermione rushed to her side, worry clear on their faces as Hope wheezed slightly, the key still clutched in her hand.

"M'fine," Hope managed, massaging at her side with a wince. "This is why I stick to the ground, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Daphne snorted as she held out a hand to pull Hope upright, still massaging at her bruised side.

"What would Remus say?" Daphne responded.

"Don't be so reckless," Hope said without missing a beat, the wings of the key fluttering weakly against her hand as they moved towards the door, and Hope slipped it into the lock and twisted the door, allowing all three to push through and slam it shut behind them.

"You're bad for my heart," Hermione informed her friend decisively.

"Yeah, well, I don't think that's likely to change anytime soon," Hope replied, sounding as exhausted as one could be after falling several feet.

"That'll be helpful in the future, when we're getting ourselves into trouble later," Daphne said dryly, which earned her two glares that she couldn't see in the current darkness, but when they stepped forward slowly with arms outstretched to keep from potentially running into anything, the chamber filled with enough light to make them wince.

What they saw Hope decided could be rather problematic.

The chamber they'd stepped into was much larger than the previous one, but that was to accommodate the life-size chessboard complete with chess-pieces towering over them, ready to be moved.

Both Hope and Hermione turned to look at Daphne so suddenly that the blonde blinked, and then she glowered with her hands on her hips and her shoulders slightly hunched.

"You've got to be kidding me. Am I the only one here with any skill in chess?" Daphne demanded, her voice echoing loudly in the silence.

Hope and Hermione shared a look and then nodded vigorously as one.

Daphne groaned loudly. Hope had her own Wizarding chess set and she did find it interesting from time to time, but Hermione had never had a particular aptitude for it; compared to them, Daphne was uniquely skilled.

She considered their options, looking from the pair to the black pieces closest to them. The safest position was the king, given the situation, because she was almost completely certain that it was exactly like wizard's chess, which meant the pieces would move on their own accord and destroy each other on their own accord with only small instructions from the players. Daphne didn't fancy getting thrown across the board if her piece was unlucky enough to be hit by the opposite side.

"I'll take the king," she said loudly and the piece moved off her board to allow her to take his space.

"What about us?" Hermione asked as Daphne took a step forward towards the space.

"No, you two should just stay back." She was so certain and so serious that Hope and Hermione didn't question it as she took to the chess board alone.

She thought about her Nana standing over her when she was a little girl, a spear in hand, her eyes slate grey and serious.

" _You are a child of Adrestia, Daphne_ ," Nana had said, _"keep the balance, that is what our family is best at."_

Daphne hadn't been put in Slytherin because she wanted it the most, she'd been put in Slytherin because it suited her the best, because cleverness and ambition was within the blood that was racing through her veins even now. What they were doing was dangerous, you would have to be blind to not see that, but someone had to get to the end and stop You-Know-Who, if he was indeed there with Quirrell. Daphne needed to be rational about the whole thing; doing so was the only thing keeping her from shaking too terribly.

The white pieces always moved first at chess, so Daphne waited for the white pawn to move into place before she considered her own attack.

"Pawn to F4," she said and the game began.

Chess had always been more of her father's thing. Her mother had always rolled her eyes, hefting the spear Nana had gotten her when she was younger. Daphne had only seen her use it once, but she couldn't help but wonder which she should prize more, physical strength or mental strength.

But it was times like these that Daphne couldn't help but be relieved that her father's skill in the subject was so ingrained in her.

The game progressed slowly with Hope and Hermione watching nervously from sidelines, wincing every time a piece was destroyed.

"She seems to be doing all right," Hermione muttered, looking over the pieces still on the board. There were currently more black pieces than white, which was the only upside as it was, seeing how far out of reach the white king was.

"Better than I would've been doing," Hope had to acquiesce. Daphne's eyes were narrowed and her jaw tight.

"You do _know_ I can hear you, right?" Daphne's dry tone echoed and both girls shared a sheepish smile. "Knight to C7."

The knight moved slowly across the board, and in the next move, the rook that had taken up residence beside Daphne was smashed, forcing her to cover her head to protect it from flying shards of stone.

She removed her arms from her head, wincing as she did so, looking down to see a sharp piece of rock stuck in her arm. It wasn't very large, but big enough to be painful, if how she was gritting her teeth to hold back a scream, her face white in pain, clutching at the arm as she knelt on the ground.

Hope's breath caught in her throat and Hermione gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.

"Queen," Daphne hissed through gritted teeth, "to F6." In destroying the rook, there'd been an open space left enough for Daphne's queen to move diagonally to firmly block the white king. "Checkmate."

The white king lifted a hand to grasp its crown and throw it to the ground. The remaining chess pieces moved aside to show the door that had been hidden until then and Hermione and Hope rushed onto the board to their friend's side.

"D'you know any good healing spells?" Hermione asked Hope worriedly as they both looked over Daphne's injury.

It didn't look terrible, considering, but Hope didn't think she'd had a lot of experience with serious injuries.

"Er, one or two," Hope said, trying to force her scattered brain to function properly, trying to recall the Greek words scrawled across the pages, recited in Salazar's voice. He'd sliced the palm of her hand open once to prove a point, forcing her heal it herself. Hope hadn't liked the way that lesson had gone but her complaints had always died in her throat at the sight of his stony stare.

" _Any Earth Witch worth their salt needs to know how to heal if they're in a dire situation that requires it,"_ was all he'd said on the matter.

"Hold still," Hope said, swallowing her unease, her hand positioned over the shrapnel and then she grasped it and yanked it out in a single motion.

Daphne released a scream that echoed as the blood spilled from the wound, dampening her arm in red.

Hope clasped her hand over the injury, over the wet glide of her blood, intoning: _**"Therapévo."**_

Her eyes glowed green and under her hand the broken skin knitted itself together, leaving only the spillage of blood over her arm as any indication that there'd been a wound there previously.

"Thanks," Daphne gasped, relief present once the pain was gone and Hope nodded, looking down at her hand where Daphne's blood remained.

Hope had never been particularly squeamish about blood, but there was something about the idea of Daphne's blood on her hands that made her stomach twist in on itself.

Hermione was in tears, or as close as she was going to it, her body shaking, her chin trembling, and tears clinging desperately to her eyelashes.

"I'm all right," Daphne assured her quickly, recognizing the look and siphoning off the remaining blood with her wand. "See? Not even a scar."

But the whole thing had been very startling and just that side of horrifying.

And Hermione kept a tight grip on Daphne's arm as they helped her upright, a little unsteady on her feet, but determined to continue all the same.

The next obstacle had already been defeated, which was both helpful and worrying, in the form of a troll slumped on the ground, unconscious and unaware of them, forcing them to curve around its legs with their hands over their noses to keep the smell at bay as much as they could in order to reach the next door.

Hope ushered them inside before shutting it behind them. The next room was much smaller with a table that held seven oddly shaped bottles and black flames flickering and extending high in the doorway that undoubtedly lead onwards.

If Hope hadn't been so worried about time, she might've looked on the parchment next to the bottles with interest alongside Hermione, but as it was, time was something they couldn't afford to lose.

The thing was, Hope preferred not to use Flashing, Salazar's form of instantaneous travel that could be potentially dangerous over long distances, at Hogwarts for a good reason.

Ah well, it was for a good cause, she supposed.

So she grasped each of their shoulders before they could have even moved and focused on what she could see beyond the fire and stepped forward, dragging her friends with her, and the next thing any of them knew, they had passed just beyond the flames, so close that they could feel the heat of it on their backs.

For a moment they didn't move, just standing there, close to the fire.

"Why aren't we moving?" Hermione whispered.

"I was waiting to see if the fire was fool-proofed," Hope responded just as quietly, keeping her voice quiet, but she relaxed slightly, releasing her tight grip on her friends' robes as they came out into the last chamber.

Hope recognized the mirror instantly, the grooves and words carved painstakingly by Salazar's steady hand. It made her glower at the person standing before it.

"Paws off," she snarled almost reflexively, her eyes darkening to a solid black and Quirrell twisted around to consider the three of them standing there.

It was like looking at a completely different person. There were none of Quirrell's usual twitches that Hope had grown so accustomed to over the year, none of the ones that she had found herself watching carefully over the last few months. He was a good actor, she had to grudgingly admit; he hadn't slipped up once.

"Ah, Potter, Granger, and Greengrass," Quirrell said without a trace of a stutter, "if course. You can't find one without the other two."

"That sounds like an insult," Daphne muttered to Hermione.

"I wondered if you'd be following me down here." His eyes had gained a manic gleam. "But you realized it ages ago, didn't you?"

"W-we were there when you and Snape had that argument in the Forbidden Forest," Hermione managed to force out rather bravely given how Hope could feel her knees shaking. They were all scared, but Hope thought she was hiding the best out of the three, or perhaps Daphne was the best at it; a glance to her side told her Daphne's expression had settled into a stony mask.

Quirrell gave a tutting noise with his tongue. "Eavesdropping is a vice, Granger."

"You cursed me," Hope retorted without bothering to point out that the girls had actually been in the forest first, it wasn't like they'd been following Quirrell and Snape at the time.

"I didn't think you'd noticed." He sounded vaguely amused, like she was a dog that had learned a new trick. It grated on her nerves. "It would've been simpler if that curse killed you…but perhaps it was too _mild_ to do the trick."

"I guess if derailing the Quidditch stands didn't work, let's curse an eleven year old, that sounds like a _great_ _idea,"_ Hope spoke with a bite before she could stop herself and Hermione's grip tightened over elbow and Daphne aborted a snort.

Something darkened behind his eyes and he took a step forward, away from the mirror and towards the girls, all who took a step back, unnerved and frightened. "How did you lift my curse?"

There was something in the back of her mind, a suggestion to goad him with knowing that she'd done it through the Ancient Arts, but this time Hope held her tongue, jutting her chin in defiance.

"It doesn't matter," he said a moment later and Hope had to wonder if he was actually disappointed, "after my screw-up on the Quidditch pitch I knew I had to be more subtle. Snape kept an _annoyingly_ close watch on me."

Hope couldn't hide her surprise, and she doubted the other two could as well. Snape wasn't exactly her biggest fan, in fact, he might be the exact _opposite_ of her biggest fan. Despised might be a better word to describe how he felt about her.

"You three," he said with a decisive sneer, "have been a thorn in my side since the beginning."

And before the three could even move, or even breathe, he'd flicked his wand and ropes wound tightly around each of them. Hope almost teetered over and Hermione gave a sharp wheeze at how tight they were around her; Daphne alone seemed to handle the restraint the best, though her eyes flashed furiously. "With the chaos on Halloween, I could never really be sure. For all I knew one of you had seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"That was _you?"_ Daphne couldn't help but demand. "You _let_ that troll in?"

"Of course," Quirrell said blandly, his eyes sweeping over her, a smirk playing on his lips, "I have a special gift with trolls –you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off –and not only did my troll fail to beat any of you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly."

" _Pity,"_ Hope said sharply and he ignored her.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter, Granger, Greengrass. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

Hope growled when his fingers ran along its frame with a murmur of "This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," that Hope couldn't hope to comprehend in the moment. "Keep touching it and when I get out of these—" And she gave a vicious tug at her bindings. "—I'm going to find a curse to break your fingers."

That made him laugh. "And here I thought you weren't the type to be physically violent."

"That's my _grandfather's_ mirror," Hope practically seethed, her hair turning bronze and her skin going bloodless to match. In her anger, her features had shifted to replicate the most powerful being she knew, Thanatos, but Quirrell had no way of knowing that.

That made him turn around to consider her dubiously. "Your grandfather?" he repeated.

"Did I fucking _stutter?"_ Hope snapped. She didn't generally swear like that, but her mouth was only reacting to the rage she was feeling.

"Hm," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "The mirror is the key to finding the Stone…a blood relative could work I suppose…"

"I've got a question," Hermione said rather loudly, almost too loudly, truth be told, but Hope wasn't going to mention it in their current situation. "You were the Muggle Studies teacher before, but You-Know-Who was always anti-Muggle, why would he join up with you?"

Hope could've sworn that she heard a faint hissing coming from the direction of the Quirrell's turban.

Quirrell's lip curled and Hope couldn't help but think it was because Hermione was a Muggle-born. "It was more about the opportunity I afforded him," he acquiesced, "as a professor at Hogwarts. Defense had always been something I was rather singularly gifted in. I took a year-long sabbatical to gain first-hand experience, at least," he smirked, "that was what I told Dumbledore."

"This keeps getting better and better," Daphne muttered snidely.

"I'd dreamed of being the one to find what remained of the once great Dark Lord." His eyes gleamed. "And find him I did, in Albania. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too _weak_ to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."

He paled suddenly at a previous memory and Hope frowned. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer _watch_ on me…"

Quirrell's words trailed off as he considered the mirror once more and a shiver ran down her spine as a voice seemed to emanate from the turban.

"Use the girl," it hissed. "Use the girl."

Hope yelped as the ropes fell away and she was dragged away from her friends and before the mirror despite their complaints.

" _Hey!"_ Hermione cried angrily.

" _Hands off!"_ Daphne snapped.

Unfortunately both were ignored.

His grip on Hope's robes was tight as he held her in place right in front of the mirror. For a moment it was just her, pale and small, just a slip of a girl at eleven short years, looking so very much like Thanatos' daughter, but the image before her grew, as she knew it would. Within seconds there was the image of Hope all grown up and leaning against the side of a pirate ship, green eyes glowing with power. Hope could see Daphne and Hermione behind her, and Remus and the Blackwoods.

Her older version winked, holding the Philosopher's Stone easily in her hand, crimson and rough in her hand.

Crimson and rough in Hope's own hand.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she tightened her grip on the stone that was now held in her left hand.

The reflection in the mirror raised a finger to her lips for silence, winking before lifting the hand up, her eyes glowing green and Hope watched as the stone sank into her hand and the reflection showed her the palm where the image of the stone was painted across like a tattoo on her skin.

Hope remembered the spell. It wasn't very complicated, though usually designed for hiding weapons on the body. Hope had long suspected the spell was one that Nelda had created that her mother had simply added to her book.

"Well?" Quirrell demanded of her, twisting her to face him. "What do you see?"

Hope hated Death Eaters just as much as she hated Voldemort himself, they had done just as much damage as he had in the war, and true Quirrell might not have been a Death Eater and Death Eaters might not have been the ones that killed her parents, but anyone so willing to follow someone as depraved as Voldemort so blindly…they didn't deserve anything of her.

She glared viciously at him, fortified in her anger. "Go to Tartarus," she spat, tightening her grip on the stone as fury overtook Quirrell and he drew his wand and the next thing Hope knew she'd gone flying into the wall.

Her stomach burned and her back ached from the attack, her eyes ringing enough that it made it a little hard for her to make out the combined scream and yell from Hermione and Daphne.

The stone was still in her hand, the grip so tight that it was painful. _**"Apókrypsi stoicheíou,"**_ she said quietly and nothing could quite describe the sensation of feeling and watching the stone sink into her skin, leaving only an image painted over the skin.

She groaned as she pulled herself upright, eyes flitting towards her friends, terrified and trapped. _**"Doreán**_ _ **,"**_ she whispered and their bindings loosened as Hope heard a high voice, not unlike the high-pitched laughter she had grown accustomed to in her darkest dreams.

"Let me speak to her…face to face…"

That voice alone made her legs tremble where they held her up.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell tried to say before abruptly cringing.

"I have strength enough…for this…"

And with those words spoken, Quirrell lifted his hands to begin unwinding the cloth from around his head until all that was left was Quirrell's completely bald head. It would've been rather anticlimactic if that had been all it was, but then he turned on his heel and Hope took a step back, going so pale that she was almost green.

The back of Quirrell's hand bore upraised grooves that formed into a face, a second face on a single head, but this one wouldn't have looked right on a living body. It was much paler than Quirrell's, milk-white, with eyes as red as Hope's used to get when she was angry, and a nose flattened with slits not unlike a snake's. Hope felt faint; probably the only thing keeping her from passing out was thinking about how Quirrell with his two faces made her think of Janus, the Roman god with two faces.

It took her a moment to realize she'd stopped breathing temporarily and her heart was racing in her chest.

Hope's eyes flitted towards the girls briefly, struck dumb in horror and Hermione's eyes fixed on hers.

'Mirror' was all she mouthed and Hope frowned, looking to the Mirror of Erised before fixing her eyes back on Voldemort's face.

"Hope Potter," Voldemort whispered and Hope found she didn't like how he said her name, "you see what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another's body, but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…"

The mirror…what had Salazar said about the mirror?

" _When I was making it, something went wrong, I could never quite say, but somehow an extendable pocket of space ended up within the mirror itself, as though it was a cupboard instead of a mirror."_

_It was a good place to hide…_

She didn't dare look to meet Hermione's eyes to nod that she'd understood what she was thinking.

"Unicorn blood has strengthened me these past weeks…and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone?"

Hope did something both very brave and very stupid. She brought up her arm up, her hand to her shoulder before flinging it out with an incantation of Greek that threw Quirrell's body back and against the wall.

 _ **"Pýli tou kathréfti,"**_ Hope called out, extending a hand towards the mirror and its surface rippled.

Hermione took initiative without being told to do so and she grabbed Daphne, dragging her along and through the mirror before it solidified behind them.

Performing two spells at once was rather difficult and taxing given how undeveloped Hope's magical core was, and she'd had to drop the spell keeping him against the wall almost instantly, slightly disorientated.

"SIEZE HER!"

Hope choked as the hands closed around her throat, the pain from her forehead blinding her. She couldn't get any breath in.

Quirrell screamed in pain. "Master, I cannot hold her –my hands – _my hands!"_

Hope tore her eyes open just as he released her, his hands cracking like they'd been made of earth that was slowly crumbling away. Hope had never seen anything like it before.

"Then kill her, fool, and be done!"

Hope reacted before he did, moving quickly to press her hands against his face, which began to steam when their skin met.

Quirrell released a mighty scream as his skin began to crack like his hand and within seconds he was nothing but a pile of robes and earth on the ground. There was a ripple through the air and then there was nothing. Hope was alone with the mirror that her friends were hiding within.

She massaged her throat, intoning the incantation once more to allow them to fall out.

"Oh, Merlin, Hope are you all right?" Hermione was clutching tightly at her shoulders, her face pale with worry. "I wanted _us all_ to go through and hide!"

"We probably wouldn't have all fit," Daphne pointed out practically, "besides, he was more interested in Hope than us." Her blue eyes flashed as though roved over Hope's throat where she'd been grabbed. "Are you all right?"

"I'll live," Hope assured them with a voice just short of being hoarse.

She curled her fingers up to brush against the image of the Philosopher's Stone against her palm.

* * *

The idea that Voldemort could use the Elixir of Life to return to life had been too troubling to consider that when Albus told him that the Stone had vanished three days previously amidst what had apparently been a skirmish between the Dark Lord himself –borrowing the form of one of the school teachers– and three third year students, which had been an impressive feat by itself. Still, maybe it was best that it stay lost.

"Nicolas Flamel?" a young voice asked as he descended the stairs that led up to Albus' office and he turned to see a small girl standing there, watching him rather expectantly. She was wearing a lavender dress to match the sprig in her crown braid and the lightning bolt scar on her forehead wasn't hidden.

"Yes?" Nicolas said with a bit of surprise, and he couldn't help but get the feeling that she'd been waiting for him.

"My name's Hope Potter," the girl said, offering her hand to him and he shook it, "I have your Stone."

That made him balk slightly, seeing as he'd been told that three third years had been involved in keeping it out of Voldemort's hands, and the girl before him was the right age for a first year.

"I thought three third years were involved," he voiced his thoughts and her lips curled.

"My friends and I skipped a grade…or two," Hope said before drawing his attention to the palm of her hand, where the image of his Stone remained. "I'd be happy to return it to you…but I was wondering if I might borrow it for a week?"

"You want to borrow my Stone?" he asked dubiously. "For which purpose?"

The Potters had always been rather wealthy, so it couldn't be that…but what use was the Elixir of Life to an eleven year old whose life had hardly begun?

"I heard it can make unrefined gold," Hope said, her eyes gleaming, "several enchantments I've been looking into require it, and all I have is refined gold."

Nicolas considered her. "What kind of magic?"

"Earth Magick," Hope said, her shoulders tightening and her eyes narrowing as she stared back, daring him to question her use of magic, as many often did.

That surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard someone trying their hand at Earth Magick, much less a child.

"One week," he found himself saying. A test of honour, if she'd hold her word. "That is all."

"Thank you," Hope gave him a smile before turning on her heel and practically skipping away.

_What a curious girl._

* * *

"What're they doing?" Daphne asked Angelina, listening to the twins' debate what was evidently different locations within their house.

All of her things were packed and she was ready to head out on the train. The past few days had been enough stress for her to last the rest of the week, at the very least.

Unfortunately, news about all that had transpired in the chamber under the school had spread like wildfire –Daphne wasn't really surprised, just _irritated_ about it– it was all anyone would talk about the past few days. Slytherin House only liked to acknowledge her and Hope when it was convenient for them, such as why two Slytherins who had risked their lives for the Philosopher's Stone weren't being rewarded for it.

She had to admit it was an odd way to go, given how certain Hope was that Dumbledore wanted to get on her good side, or maybe it was because of how Hope had gone about it, using her Earth Magick.

Daphne couldn't really be sure.

Hope, on the other hand was sitting next to Lee Jordan, an eyebrow arched as she listened to both boys. Hermione was sitting across from her beside Alicia, reading one of her books, shaking her head at Fred and George's antics.

"They're trying to figure out a place to hide all their joke item notes without their mother finding out," Angelina snorted. "They're running out of places, I think."

"Under that board in the broom cupboard?" Fred suggested.

"Nah, she found that one last year, remember?" George pointed out.

"Oh, _yeah."_

"Or you could just leave them at my place?" Hope offered and they whipped their heads around to look at her. "I've got a potions room at the manor and I need someone to water my plants when Remus and I head down to Greece. You can disappear off to the manor for a few hours to work on some prank items and she won't even notice."

"You have a potions room?" Fred had never looked quite so excited.

" _I love you,"_ George agreed, winding his arms around her small frame and kissing her cheek loudly. Their friends laughed but Hope wasn't impressed.

"Oh, get off me!" she practically bodily pushed him off her, ignoring his wide grin and holding out her hand expectantly. "I'll keep your notes away from your mother, no problem."

"When're you going to Greece?" Fred asked, handing over the booklet full of their notes on ideas for a possible joke shop without a second thought.

"A little over a week," Hope said, tucking it under her arm, "Remus is teaching a seminar to the Greek Aurors and my cousin Aggie's very excited about me coming for awhile."

She patted his arm sympathetically. "I'll owl you lot when you can come over." And then she and Hermione and Daphne made their way out of the hall.

"Mark my words," Daphne said, looping her arm through Hope's as Hermione did the same, "one day that boy is going to be so far gone on you."

"Oh, _shut up,"_ Hope said, turning pink.

Their laughter belled out as they continued out of Great Hall and off into the courtyard, the sky clear and the sun bright, a proper send-off, a perfect way to end their third year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book one is finally done! And I'm so glad, because book two is the one I'm the most excited about, but I'm going to take a little break before starting the next chapter because this chapter was exhausting.


	18. The Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been such a long wait, but I had both my obsession with all things Star Wars and nursing school to deal with.
> 
> That last chapter was exhausting, but I'm glad you all enjoyed it, because book 2 is where shit goes down and it's a major turning point for Hope, like book 5 was for LB!Hope, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I will be.
> 
> It's been brought up that the end of Book 1 was similar to canon, and there's a reason for that, but things will be drastically different in this book, I can assure you, and will be the most Greek Myths-heavy of all the books.
> 
> Also: I'm in the process of altering the Greek Earth Magick spells into something you lot can attempt to sound out in your head, since it was brought up and several people would actually like it better.

Galen hadn't been to the Gates of Tartarus until his mother had woke him up that morning with a stony expression on her face, telling him to follow her and to grab his sword.

Of course, they'd always gone on those hikes up that mountain when they were younger, but he'd never dreamed that the Gates were on that mountain. It was almost a letdown when he saw them.

His mother had told him and Aggie the stories surrounding the Gates since they were young enough to understand, and he understood their significance. He understood that all the ancient monsters came from Tartarus, that was the way it had always been, all the way back to Ancient Greece. Of course, the Gates were closed, as they should be, but they had been opened briefly several centuries previously, only being shut by the blood sacrifice of Iolanthe Potter. He doubted Hope even knew of her distant ancestor and what she had sacrificed.

There were a few stray monsters that roamed Greece that still hungered for the blood of the innocent and the blood of the gods. They multiplied like rabbits, soaking up negative emotions, but Galen hadn't seen as many in years, not since that harpy tried to kill Aggie when she was younger.

The Gates was really just an arch of stone, worn down age and covered with creeping vines, at least, that's what Galen had thought, but his mother's face was too pale.

"What's wrong?"

Her eyes narrowed on the arch. "Someone's been chipping away at the Gates…Thanatos is worried."

Galen's lips drew downwards. The last time anything really godly had happened had been when Aggie was six that someone had killed a legacy of the Roman goddess of truth, Veritas, a woman that had been the girlfriend of the mother of Aggie's friend Ajax. No one had found the culprit, but rumours were that it was an Other, an Álloi, the group that had despised the offspring of the gods for as long as they'd existed.

When Galen was younger he'd thought it all was a bit too complicated for him. What was the point of people hating you for something you couldn't control? But Galen had learned by now that some people couldn't be reasoned with.

"Who could've done it?" Galen asked, his voice hushed and stunned. "I didn't think there were any Others left."

"Thanatos says there is only one," Thalia said, dragging her eyes from the stone arch to rest on her child. "He won't say who, of course, and sometimes I wonder if he even _knows_ …but we need to be prepared."

"Are you going to tell Hope?" Galen asked when something not unlike black smoke hissed from one of the cracks made in the Gates to solidify into a manticore with a red lion body and human head full of sharp teeth.

"Later," she said decisively as both gripped their swords and swung over the stone they'd been crouching behind, poised to fight.

* * *

The first thing Hope did as soon as she'd woken up on the third day of summer break was look for a map of the property. Charlus' records were extensive and included maps of everything within the borders of the Potter Lands. It stretched much farther than she thought possible, but then again, she had never really been very far within it.

Hope frowned as she looked over the map with interest, focusing in on one spot in particular that was shaped like a chess rook and labelled with a tiny script that said: _the Tower._

There were small labels all over the map, listing forest thickets and rivers and lakes, nothing too big, but _the Tower_ …that one was interesting to her.

Hope rolled the map up and stood, turning around only to realize something was different about her office.

That sword definitely wasn't there before. She would've recognized the sword, she was sure, especially one that was resting on her desk. It wasn't like Galen's, he'd shown his to her, and it was a xiphos, a double-bladed short sword made of iron.

This one was a contrast to Galen's, she thought, longer and more alike in appearance to the rapier than anything else as she grasped the scabbard, pulling it up just slightly.

"Aegean Iron," a voice mentioned and Hope whirled around to see Thanatos sitting there in one of the leather seats she had pushed against the wall close to the unlit fireplace. He was wearing a suit vest and looked rather like he was going to a business meeting instead of reaping souls. "Works wonders against the monsters of Tartarus."

Hope was familiar with Tartarus, of course, just as she was familiar with many parts of the Greek myths, including Thanatos himself, but she was still thrown off by the statement.

"Um, what?" she asked befuddled, her eyes leaving the sword to fix on Thanatos.

He smiled thinly and tilted his head to consider her. "I'm sure you'll find a blade that suits you better, but until then, this will have to do."

"That doesn't explain anything," Hope pointed out with a bit of annoyance.

"No," he agreed, "but I'm sure Thalia would be more than happy to." His solid onyx eyes moved to the door and a moment later there was a polite knock and Thalia's head peered around the corner with a question of "Hope?"

She opened the door more fully when she saw Thanatos standing there. "Thanatos," Thalia said in surprise, "I wasn't expecting to find you here."

"I'm just dropping off a sword," Thanatos said lightly, standing fluidly with enough grace that Hope was instantly jealous. "I leave her to you, Thalia, try not scare her off, would you, dearest?"

He faded into shadow and darkness, leaving Hope just as befuddled as when he'd arrived.

"What's going on?" she demanded in confusion, turning on her heel towards Thalia before starting in surprise. There was a bruise forming painfully around the edge of her jaw and there scrape over her chin, and her knuckles were painfully white around the hilt of her sword. "Why was Grandfather talking about Tartarus?"

Thalia heaved a heavy sigh, looking so very much older. _This was going to take a lot of explaining._

It was only when they'd sat down on the swinging bench surrounded by flowers that Hope had made more than a year ago that Thalia began to explain.

"Back in Ancient Greece, as you know, gods and mortals had a tendency to…" Thalia paused, looking to Hope, who arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Well, there were more relationships between gods and mortals then, and then there were more children of the gods. _Naturally,"_ the word twisted oddly in her mouth, "there were those who were against them, and this group didn't think anyone with godly blood could really be considered human in any way, that in some ways, we were as bad as the monsters that roamed at the time."

Her eyes were dark and angry. "This group had a lot of names over the years, but we call them, the Álloi, the _Others,_ and they've certainly did their part to exterminate us like rats." Thalia's lip curled in disdain and Hope stared down at the rapier in her hand, her thumb smoothing over the grooves in the hilt.

Hope almost asked what that had to do with Tartarus, but she kept her mouth shut, thinking that Thalia would get there at some point.

"Monsters were a prevalence in that time due to the Gates of Tartarus, which allowed monsters to freely come through to walk the earth. The Gates were closed for a very long time until the thirteen hundreds, when an Other had them opened once more, only to shut by the blood sacrifice of Thanatos' great-granddaughter, Iolanthe Potter."

Hope started in surprise at that. The name Iolanthe was familiar; she remembered seeing it on the over-large family tree tapestry she kept in the ball room.

"Are the Gates open again?" she asked suddenly.

" _No,"_ Thalia sighed in relief, some tension leaving her shoulders, "thankfully _not_ , but someone has manufactured cracks in the archway that makes up the Gates. Fortunately, the Gates can't be broken completely by man-made means, but the damage is enough that from time to time single mythical monsters can pass through." She gestured to the cut and bruising. "I got this from a manticore that tangled with Galen and I."

Hope's heart jumped in her chest. "How's Galen?"

"Broken arm that'll be healed in moments," Thalia assured her. "But the Gates are only part of the reason why I'm here."

Hope's brow furrowed in confusion.

"There are some monsters that do not come from Tartarus—"

"Like harpies?" Hope asked and both of Thalia's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "Aggie might've mentioned something about a harpy."

If Hope was being perfectly honest, when Aggie had brought up monsters and the Gates of Tartarus, she had honestly thought it had been a joke, something to freak her out, but Thalia wouldn't be at Potter Manor explaining it all to Hope in such a serious tone of voice.

"I'll be having words with her," Thalia said wryly.

_Oops._

"But, yes," the Auror agreed, "Harpies are one of the types of monsters that do not come from Tartarus. The original ones were from Tartarus, but harpies feed on mindless rage, more can come into being from that, but it's the Keres you want to watch out for."

"The Keres?" Hope wasn't familiar with the term.

"They're spirits of painful death, and they absolutely detest children of Thanatos," Thalia intoned seriously, drawing her shirt to the side in order for Hope to see claw-like scratches over her collarbone.

Hope swallowed thickly.

"I got this when I was twelve, trying to keep my sister safe." Thalia said with a stony expression that only someone who had buried their own blood could look. "Keres are _very_ dangerous and have the tendency to revert to invisible at any point. It's honestly a miracle that you haven't crossed any monsters yet…but that might've been Thanatos' influence."

Thalia eyed Hope in speculation and Hope frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember if she'd ever seen any monsters around.

Her teachers when she'd still been living with the Dursleys had said that she had an overactive imagination, and she wasn't sure if that was what Thalia was talking about.

"How would you feel about learning the art of the sword?" Thalia asked and Hope blinked in surprise.

Hope looked down at the sword in her hands, her expression closed off. Hope had never been very good at violent altercations. Her weapons were her sharp tongue and cold eyes. Dudley had been the physical bully, she'd gotten more than enough bruises from him before he'd gotten unnerved by the stares and how much bad karma he'd appeared to accumulate by bullying her, something he had no way of knowing was a response from Hope's own magic.

"I don't think I'd be very good at it," Hope said finally, her eyes still fixed downwards onto the sword in her hands. "I'm not a very physical person."

It didn't sound very convincing, mostly because she wasn't entirely sure herself. The sword was fashioned like a sword that one might see with pirates, and that made her think of Nelda and _The Siren_.

"Neither was I," Thalia said and Hope scoffed loudly, earning her a smile. "It's _true_ , I'm afraid the sword never interested me as much as the bow did Aglaia…" Thalia's expression tightened. "I only did so after she'd died."

" _Oh,"_ Hope couldn't help the sound that had parted from her lips. None of the Blackwoods hardly talked about Aglaia, Thalia's sister who had died before Galen and Aggie were even born, but Hope would've thought that Thalia had grown up with the sword, just like her cousins had.

Hope floundered, trying to come up with a decent excuse to not to, thinking of the image she'd seen in the Mirror, the self-assured older Hope with a sword at either side, pride in her eyes.

"I'll think about it," was what Hope finally settled on, which was slightly weak of her, she thought later, but Hope had never been very good at quick agreements.

Thalia squeezed her knee. "At least keep the sword on you?"

It wasn't too much to ask.

* * *

"How's the planning going?"

Remus was so engrossed that he almost hadn't heard Hope approach, tearing his eyes from the parchment to took to his pseudo-niece. She was bearing a tray of tea that she set down beside him on the table in the library with a smile on her lips.

"Courtesy of Mindy," she added, nodding her head towards the tray.

Remus chuckled. "Of course," he said, dropping his quill in order to lean back in his chair and consider her as he took the cup or tea. "It's going well, I almost have the curriculum worked out."

Hope was amused by his enthusiasm, but she didn't mention it; this was the first job that Remus had had in awhile that was within the magical community with his employers knowing full well his condition.

He had a right to be excited about it.

"Are you sure you don't mind spending the majority of your summer in Greece?" Remus asked. It would be easy enough to just stay at Potter Manor; Greece was only two hours ahead of Wales, and Hope had been talking about doing some extensive exploring of the property.

But Hope cast a dry expression his way. "You're joking, right? Greece has so many _ruins_ , Remus! And Aggie wants to show me everything, trust me, spending more than a month in Greece is going to be the _best thing_ about this break."

Remus laughed. Today her hair was red and dark like Lily's, much darker than Aggie's or Thalia's, and her eyes just as bright a green as ever. She looked more like her mother and he wasn't completely sure if that had been by design. If she was in a very good mood, he knew, her hair was a bit lighter, something turning red, sometimes being more bronze in colour, like Thanatos' was.

"So, what're you up to today?" he asked with an easy smile, taking note of the plaid and denim she was wearing, the type of outfit that Mindy tutted in disapproval at, but also the kind of outfit that Hope wore when she was wandering around outside the manor. The sword at her hip was surprising, but he couldn't quite come up with an appropriate question for its appearance on her person.

"Exploring," Hope grinned, pulling a band off her wrist in order to bundle her hair into a high bun on the top of her head. "Don't wait up."

"All right," Remus called after her as she made her way towards the main doorway that led into the library, "try not to get caught in any ditches."

She threw a scowl over her shoulder, the irritation rolling off them, and Remus couldn't help but hide his smirk and chuckle into the cup of tea he'd been cradling in his hands.

_Curiosity is as curiosity does._

* * *

Hope had smiled impishly when Mindy had made her disapproval concerning her attire known, but she'd been expecting it. What she hadn't been expecting was the picnic basket that the House Elf had left her.

She drew back the cloth to arch an eyebrow.

Mindy had stuffed Hope's book on Earth Magick into the bottom of the basket, along with a roast beef and swiss sandwich, one apple, a small container of pomegranate seeds, and one for what Hope assumed was tea.

"You're too good to me, Mindy," she said and the House Elf huffed, looking faintly embarrassed as she waved her off.

She looped the basket through her arm, with the map of the property in her other hand as she left through the back door.

The sun was bright overhead, making the grass appear greener and dappling the ground with shadows as Hope passed under the trees.

It was so beautiful out that Hope was glad she'd taken the time to go exploring, even though part of her had wanted to stay inside and work with the Philosopher's Stone. She still had five days left to keep it before returning it to the possession of Nicolas Flamel, as it should've been, and she hadn't yet found a use for it.

The stone was still patterned against the skin of her palm, hidden in the only place that Hope could be certain that it wouldn't be stolen from, because the Philosopher's Stone was too great a prize to leave lying around.

She had an idea for the spell to use with it, but she hadn't tried it yet.

Hope crunched a few stray twigs under her feet as she walked, more focused on the surroundings than what her feet were doing, which might've been why Remus had warned her about ditches, now that she thought about it.

She walked on until she reached the lake that she'd ice skated with Galen, Aggie, and Dianthe back on Christmas Day. The lake was calm and a clear blue, rippling under the stone bridge that went across it. Hope almost went to take off her shoes and dip her toes into the water, but she was a girl on a mission of exploration, and Hope had already been to the lake before.

Hope swung the basket on her arm as she crossed over the bridge, delving deeper into the unknown before pulling the map loose and holding it open before her eyes.

The lake was drawn with a careful hand, one that clearly had had a skill in art, the image of the bridge identical to its real life counterpart.

Her eyes followed a path through a thicket of forests in the direction that led towards the item labelled as _the Tower_. That was the thing that intrigued her the most, and nothing could deter her on her path towards it.

* * *

Hope had been walking for about an hour when she finally stopped for a lunch break against a log that had long since fallen. She sat down on it as she chewed on her sandwich, the smell of saltwater in the air filtering through her nose, causing her to turn and look to the left, trying to see the sea beyond the trees, but it was too far, much too far for her to be able to smell it.

_The Call of the Sea._

Salazar had always been so wistful when he'd talked about it, thinking of his daughter, no doubt.

Hope wondered if Aggie could feel it too. She must've, with how she'd talked about finding _The Siren_ and sailing it. No one else would be so excited by the prospect.

She wrinkled her nose and finished the last of her sandwich and her apple and a dozen of the pomegranate seeds before beginning her trek once more.

The branches were thicker as she stepped farther and farther away from Potter Manor, to where it was wilder and older, untouched by time.

Hope smoothed a hand over one trunk of a tree as she walked past. The grass was taller here than it was elsewhere, but not tall enough that Hope was having difficulty moving through it.

Her eyes fell to a single stone arch, worn down by the elements, but somehow still standing. Perhaps it had been a part of something bigger, but nothing but it remained now, chipped and worn and with a few vines tangled around it.

Hope passed under it, continuing on until she saw a hint of her destination through the tree-tops, of stones piled high.

Her feet sped up slightly as she came out of the undergrowth, her eyes glowing as she took in the sight before her.

Just as the map had shown, there was a tower nestled in the overgrown grass. It was sturdy and large, moss and vines creeping up its sides. It stretched above the tree-line, so Hope knew that if she was to stand on the top of it, she might be able to see Potter Manor from her current position.

And there was something about it…Hope couldn't really _explain_ it, it was more like a sensation than anything else, tingling under her skin, warmth in her blood.

Something that said this was a home to Earth Magick, this was a place where Earth Magick has been used frequently.

Her heart skipped a beat inside her chest as she drew closer, coming to stand before the wooden door that led inwards. She dropped the picnic basket beside her, her hand grasping the handle-set, thumb pressing down on the thumb-piece, but the door didn't budge.

" _Ugh!"_ Hope groaned out loud, glowering at the sky. "I didn't walk all this way just to be locked out of a Zeus-forsaken tower!"

She stamped a foot in aggravation and the sole of her shoe came in contact with something hard.

Hope blinked, before kneeling down, her fingers probing in the wet dirt before pulling up a key bronze and heavy in her hand, a skeleton key like the one that locked the pain door at the manor. This one, she thought, wasn't as old as the one that opened the manor, that one was much older.

She scraped off the dirt before sliding it into the slot under the handle-set and twisting, and this time when she pressed down on the thumb-piece, the door creaked open, but Hope still had to press against it to get it to fully open, since it probably hadn't been opened in centuries.

It was dark within, so dark that Hope couldn't even see her own hand in front of her.

" _ **Fl**_ _ **ó**_ _ **ga,"**_ she intoned and orange flames erupted in her hand, illuminating enough for Hope to see a lever on the side of the wall. She grasped it firmly, pressing against it, causing flakes of rust to fall from it. It was a bit of work before she managed to work it in a circle, but once she had, a small circle of sunlight had appeared on the floor.

Hope cancelled her spell and tilted her head back to look up to the top of the tower, though it was very far up, but not far enough that she couldn't make out metal fins coming together in a circular pattern, leaving a small opening for light to come through the rather opaque glass just above it.

She twisted it again and again until the fins had disappeared against the rounded walls and sunlight had flooded the tower, allowing Hope to gaze around in awe.

It was certainly much smaller on the outside than it was on the inside, but expansion charms weren't that hard to manufacture.

There was an unlit fireplace with blackened pieces of wood inside, a cauldron hanging down within it. Above it was a painting of a ship out at sea, enchanted and moving against the swirls of the seas, with a nautilus shell, a stray book, a blue patterned jar, and a small container.

There was a peak-shaped window with blue shutters locked against the sunlight.

Two bookshelves were shoved against the curving walls on either side of the window, filled to the brim with books and jars of questionable substances. And next to one of the shelves was a door that led into a small broom cupboard that had a few hooks with cloaks hanging, and a plain witch's hat and a cylindrical container inside which was two wooden staffs and one cane.

The desk shoved close to the stone wall opposite the window was littered with an assortment of things. There were a few letters with wax seals broken, a hand-drawn Wheel of the Year on very worn parchment, several quills with ink that had long since dried, and a broken shell.

Hope approached the desk with renewed interest.

With everything else there was also what looked to be a cloudy crystal ball beside what could've been a human skull marked with alchemy symbols, a wooden box that was heavy upon inspection.

It was…

" _Beautiful_ ," Hope murmured, her eyes gleaming as she took everything in. The Tower must've belonged to the last Earth Magick practitioner in the Potter family…whoever that had been, otherwise there would've been no need for Morea's book that Hope had found in the attic what felt like years ago.

She went to pull a book from the bookshelf when she realized that she'd left the picnic basket with her Earth Magick book outside and Hope rushed to grab it and bring it in before shutting the door swiftly behind her.

* * *

It was two hours before Hope finally decided to open her book to the section on unrefined gold spells.

Hope stuck a pomegranate seed in her mouth, sucking on it briefly before swallowing as she looked through the pages, looking for a specific spell that could be of any interest to her.

The one that had the most promise was a very complicated four-point protective enchantment, but Hope wasn't all that surprised.

A lot of the more advanced spells, particularly the protection ones, were more involved and required a bit more effort to perform them.

The protection that Hope was looking at seemed pretty handy, keeping others from penetrating within the area that the four markers made.

It called for four black obsidian obelisks with St. John's Wort bound to each one by the wax of a black candle, a few drops of the caster's blood on each, drying before having each obelisk surrounded by unrefined liquid gold.

It was a lot of effort, but it sounded well worth the effort.

Hope opened her hand, looking at the image of the Philosopher's Stone resting against her palm. She was surprised that Mindy or Remus or any of her friends hadn't noticed it, but it wasn't like Hope was showing her palm all the time, and though Hermione and Daphne had seen her use the spell to hide the stone the first time around…or maybe they hadn't. Everything had been happening so fast, even Hope couldn't be sure.

She had to wonder if Nicolas Flamel was honestly expecting her to try to keep the Stone for herself. A more greedy person would, after all, it did make gold and the Elixir of Life. Who wouldn't want that?

But Hope had more than enough gold and she didn't care much for immortality. Death was the only constant in life, and she knew that better than most, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the Flamels escaping death for so long.

They reminded her of the story of Sisyphis, the man who had tricked Thanatos, thus allowing himself a longer life.

Still, immortality seemed rather sad, and it was something that Hope had never asked Thanatos about; she didn't want to ask him what it felt like to watch your descendants perish while you remained untouched. That seemed too cruel to phrase into a question.

Hope sat on the floor with the crystals, herbs, candle, and knife around her. She carefully bound the herbs to the crystals before bringing the black candle forward, tilting it slightly so the wax dribbled slowly off the candle and onto the herb and crystal.

It was delicate work, but that was Earth Magick for you, it took time. It was not as instantaneous in its results as wand-magic was, though in many ways it was much stronger. The battle-magic side of Earth Magick was more immediate, simply because it was necessary, though it did have a tendency to be rather taxing, especially if the caster's magical core was still growing and developing; Hope still remembered her bout of blood poisoning from throwing up the strongest shield she knew back during the troll incident.

Hope breathing out slowly as a few more drops of wax fell on the crystal, securing the herb to it, before moving onto the next one.

She lost track of time easily, but in the end it didn't take nearly as long as the thought to drip the wax onto the crystals, and then came the blood.

Hope hefted the athame that she'd found in one of her vaults back when she first started looking into Earth Magick, bringing it to the centre of her hand, bringing it firmly against the skin there.

She winced when the red appeared, but the pain wasn't too terrible and Hope could heal the cut once she was done. Red beads dripped down onto the obelisks, onto the herbs and the wax.

" _ **Therapévo,"**_ she murmured and the pain lessened before fading completely and Hope stood to search for the napkin Mindy had left her with her lunch. Hope mopped up the blood, leaving no sign of the cut that had been previously there.

There was a sudden sound of something hard connecting with the floor and Hope jolted where she was kneeling before standing swiftly to move towards the fireplace, bending down to lift the thing that had fallen from the shelf above the fireplace.

It was a rather similar in weight to a coin, but if it was a coin, it was unlike any that Hope had ever seen before, with an Ouroborus, the snake eating its own tail, winding around the edge.

Hope smoothed her thumb across the surface, feeling the grooves carved into the surface of coin, the weight of the chain pooling in her hands. Hope had stopped wearing her cumbersome pentacle necklace some time ago…but she didn't think she'd mind wearing this one.

Her fingers tingled where they touched the metal and when she looped the chain around her neck, sliding the coin beneath her shirt, her skin where it touched felt warm. Maybe it was a talisman of some kind, though the skull and crossbones made her think of pirates and she didn't really know if pirates were known to wear similar symbols.

Green eyes drifted back to the four crystals on the floor, but she wasn't going to be able to continue the spell until the blood was dry, so she might as well do something in her spare time. So she pulled her Earth Magick book from the picnic basket and sat in the chair to begin another chapter within:

_The Power_

_The power at work in Earth Magick is within our bodies as well as within herbs, stones, and other natural products of the Earth. It is not dangerous or evil; nor is it inherently Dark as so many have claimed. Magical power is the power of life itself and, in some cases death, it is both creation and destruction._

_That magical power is used in Earth Magick: personal power and that which resides in the earth, in the sea, in the wind, in the flame. By combining these forces, by moving them from within to without and by giving them purpose and direction, Earth Witches create needed changes._

_In Earth Magick we must raise and release this magical power. There are many methods used to accomplish this. One of the most effective ways is through your emotions. Emotions can give you the most power, regardless of the intent of the spell in particular. Spells are performed with a need in mind. If you need and want something badly enough, your personal power is focused toward that purpose. In mixing up an incense, you mix in that power. In lighting a candle, you light it with that power._

_However, many spells and enchantments are ineffective precisely because the witch wasn't concentrating on the work at hand. Or she or he simply needed something but didn't want it. In either case, personal power wasn't properly transferred to the incense, oil or brew, so it was ineffective._

_This doesn't mean that herbs and scents aren't powerful on their own. They are. But just as a fire refuses to light without a spark, so too do herbal mixtures have to be spurred with personal power to get them moving._

_Concentration is key in performing Earth Magick, particularly to one just starting out. As the Earth Witch becomes stronger magically, less concentration and focus is needed for spells as long as the intent remains._

* * *

Hope was paranoid so she waited half an hour for the blood to dry and bind to the crystals, and by then she was ready for the last part of the spell.

She let her palm open flat with the image of the Philosopher's Stone clear against her skin. She was surprised that Remus hadn't noticed it yet, but he might've been too pressed on working on everything for his class.

" _ **Apokalýptoun éna antikeímeno**_ ," she breathed, and watched as the stone rose slowly out of her hand, as if it had been there the whole time.

The red stone was heavy in her hand and it was strange to think that something so small had expended so much effort on Voldemort's part. Hope frowned; why Voldemort would want immortality, she'd never understand and she'd never _want_ to.

Hope pulled her wand out of the basket and undid the shrinking charm that caused a decent sized chunk of metal to appear on the floor beside her.

" _Mutatio aurum,"_ Hope hummed, pointing the wand down at the stone, a soft white light shooting from her wand tip to the stone, and then holding the stone out towards the metal, watching it shift before her eyes, lightening and gleaming where the sunlight had poured in through the hole in the ceiling.

"One part down," Hope murmured to herself as she set the stone down on the desk with her wand and moved into the second part of the spell, which was a bit more complicated and entailed reducing the gold to its molten form and then cooling it once the gold had completely covered the crystals.

So it meant Hope was going to be doing two spells at the same time, which was harder to do, and was something she'd had trouble with a few weeks ago when she'd tried it down in the chamber beneath Hogwarts.

" _ **Anelkystíras."**_ She held her arms out, one towards the gold and one towards the crystals.

The bound crystals rose easily into the air, but the gold…its ascent was much harder and Hope could feel the muscle of her arms burning as though she was actually physically holding it up with her own strength.

" _ **Tíko,"**_ she hissed towards the gold and it glowed with heat, burning bright before her eyes as the firm metal softened gradually until it was as though she was levitating liquid, though the weight didn't decrease with the change.

Hope hadn't expected it to be so exhausting performing both spells, but clearly she'd underestimated her skills or the weight of the gold. She almost dropped the gold, only managing to keep it hanging in the air at the last possible second.

She gritted her teeth as she used her other hand to bring the bound crystals closer until they disappeared within the unrefined gold.

For a moment nothing happened but then Hope felt it, a ripple through the air, strong and warm, and she knew the spell had succeeded.

* * *

"You said she wants to pay you to look after her… _plants?"_

Arthur arched an eyebrow towards the twins while Molly frowned in a bit of suspicion as she placed the food on the table for dinner. He knew that she was far less trusting of Slytherins than he was, even one that was the famed Girl-Who-Lived, or perhaps it was because Hope Potter was the Girl-Who-Lived and a Slytherin that she was so suspicious. But the twins had never said anything bad about the young Potter, other than griping about spells she'd used on them during their famous prank war.

"Hope's an earth nut," Fred said with a grin, "she's really big on Herbology."

Ron snorted down the table next to Ginny. His best friend was Neville Longbottom, so he knew a thing or two about knowing someone obsessed with plants.

"She's got a greenhouse that's part for magical plants and part for non-magical," George added, "and she said she's going to be spending most of her vacation in Greece."

"Greece?" Molly inquired dubiously and Percy finally worked his way down the stairs to join them. Fred narrowed his eyes; he had no idea why Percy had been writing so many letters since they'd gotten home.

"She's got a cousin or two down there, I think," George said, looking Fred.

"She said her cousin Aggie was really excited about it," Fred shrugged. He didn't see why it really mattered; Hope's family and what she did with them and where she went was her own business.

Arthur hummed. "If she's letting you into her home, keep in mind to be respectful, you two, I'm sure Hope conducts her household a bit different than we do."

Both twins rolled their eyes but they agreed to be respectful, after all, Hope was letting them experiment with prank items in her potions lab, so really, she was the one doing them the favour.

Their eyes met and they struggled to hide their amusement.

* * *

Hope examined the four shield-markers with interest once the gold had cooled. They had a bit of weight in her hands now with the gold around the obelisks, but Hope could still see the shape of the herb from where it bulged out under the gold.

It was probably the strongest four-point protective barrier listed in Morea's book, but Hope still had no idea what she was going to be doing with it.

In the end, she simply stuffed the four shield-markers into the picnic basket with the book and her wand (the stone safely hidden beneath her skin once more), grabbing the belt with the sword that she had taken off during the spell-work and securing the belt at her waist once more.

Hope pulled the sword out of its sheath, holding it in one hand with a frown on her lips. Thalia had been serious when she'd explained everything, very serious, and the scar that had lain across her skin.

To step between your sister and certain death…Hope couldn't really imagine; she didn't have a sister, so she couldn't possibly know how that felt. Even worse that no matter what Thalia had done, she had still lost her sister.

_"Relying only on magic is a bad idea," Aggie said with a frown as Hope went to retrieve the dagger. "That's how my aunt got killed."_

_Hope froze, turning the small blade over in her hand. No one ever talked about Aglaia Blackwood, especially not Thalia; Hope got the feeling that she was never going to get over her sister's death._

_"I thought she was killed in an explosion," Hope said carefully, a line appearing between her creased eyebrows._

_"That's the official report," Aggie agreed with a scowl, taking the dagger and flinging it with a startling accuracy. "Unofficially, someone ran her through with a sword."_

Hope's green eyes were reflected in the blade, but when she shifted it slightly she saw eyes as black as coal on a bloodless face, dark cracks spreading across the skin.

She thought her heart stopped, but when she blinked, she found she was just staring at her own reflection and she took in a calming breath, leaning back against the desk.

Hope was seeing things that weren't there. She shook her head trying to clear her thoughts as she returned the sword to its sheath. She wasn't like Thalia or Galen…she didn't think swords and her were a good mix, no matter what the Mirror of Erised had showed.

A staff, sure, after all, great masters of Earth Magick had used them before and Morea had perfectly etched the likeness of her own within the pages of the book, but a sword?

But Aggie's words from so long ago still rang in her ears, and relying on her magic would only get her so far.

Hope blew out a sharp breath before pulling the band out of her long hair in favour of shortening it so that it didn't even touch her shoulders, and then she grabbed up her weighted picnic basket, quickly placing the key to the Tower within after locking the door behind her and beginning the trek back to Potter Manor.

The day had cooled considerably since the morning when Hope had made her way out to the Tower, but it still shouldn't have caused the hair on the back of Hope's neck to stand on end, with a feeling not unlike icy water trickling down her spine.

She really didn't like the feeling as she dropped the picnic basket into the grass and grasped the hilt of the sword as the wind whispered around her, a faint cackle echoing through the air, making Hope twist around violently in apprehension, but it was impossible to tell where it was coming from.

Whatever it was was invisible...like the Keres Thalia had described.

 _ **"Orató** **,"**_ she murmured, eyes blazing with a green light as she pulled the sword free, focusing on the form that came into view.

It was _terrifying._

It was as if made solidly of black ash with dark rippling hair and eyes pale and completely grey and stretched. Fingers sharpened into deadly claws and teeth jagged and yellow bared from crumbling lips.

"What the _hell?"_ Hope couldn't help but demand.

The creature cackled loudly. _"I'm flattered,"_ it said, _"but not quite."_

It flitted through the air though it had no wings, and a second later Hope found herself thrown against a nearby tree, her head throbbing and her ribs aching as she attempted to right herself.

"What _are_ you?" Hope managed to groan out, blinking furiously to clear her vision.

It almost seemed to smile at that, but it was impossible to tell with a face like that; it could've been a sneer for all Hope knew.

" _You mean you've never heard of the Keres, daughter of Thanatos?"_ the creature goaded and Hope twitched at the assumption that she was Thanatos' daughter as opposed to his several generations removed granddaughter. Unless the creature before her was simply remarking on his blood within her, and she couldn't really discount that.

Hope struggled not to let anything show on her face, but it couldn't have been a coincidence that the day Thanatos and Thalia showed up to warn her about the Gates of Tartarus and monsters from within that one just so happened to find her.

"No," Hope said innocently, lying through her teeth, "must not've been important enough."

The Keres gave a scream of rage and Hope got the feeling it didn't like being considered forgotten or unknown or unimportant, and then it lurched forward, as fast as it had been before, claw outstretched.

Hope, who had finally clamoured to her feet, jerked her head back quickly, but not fast enough to get away unscathed.

One claw sliced vertically through her eyebrow, just missing her eye, a fact that Hope would only be grateful of later, because in that moment the only thing she could feel was an intense burning sensation that gave her the feeling that those claws were poisonous.

A cry of pain burst from Hope's lips and one hand clutched over her eye, skin wet with blood, temporarily blinded by it.

" _You'll pay,"_ the Keres hissed, _"you and all your blood will pay, with each passing day the Gates weaken and one day they will open and monsters will reign!"_

"You're _crazy,"_ Hope snapped, her pain making her angry, "you're not _strong_ enough to open the Gates."

She was bluffing, of course, but if Thalia's information was to be believed, and it _was_ , then whoever was chipping away at the Gates couldn't open them by themselves, or they would've already done so.

And this time Hope was almost certain that the Keres was throwing her a superior smirk her way, like she knew something that Hope didn't, and Hope _really_ hated that look.

Then the Keres shot forward and Hope reacted on instinct, thrusting the sword forward and the Keres faded into darkness with a scream that rang in her ears.

Hope's knuckles were tight on the hilt of the sword as she summoned the basket blindly with a hissed spell and vanished before reappearing in the sitting room of Potter Manor, but she'd miscalculated and she collided painfully with the wall with a yell.

"Mistress!"

"What was that?"

Hope could feel Mindy's presence more than see it, more blinded now than she'd been before, pain blooming around her as Remus came out of the study.

"Hope, what _happened?"_

Hope gritted her teeth together, blood thick and warm against her skin. "Hospital," she managed to get out and it showed how worried Remus was that he didn't question her request, simply helping her stand and holding her elbow tightly as he twisted on the spot.

* * *

Thalia should've left her with at least as minimal abilities with the sword as possible, no matter what Hope thought about using a sword, and those thoughts couldn't help but plague had as she strode through Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It had been startling to receive a mirror-call from Remus telling her that Hope had had a bit of an accident and the look on his face said he wanted an explanation, one that Thalia certainly would be giving him.

Thalia wasn't looking forward to it.

She found door three and gave a polite knock before entering.

Hope had one eye winced shut and was sitting on the one cot in the room while the healer became steadily more flustered with dealing with the angry red cut that Thalia could now see stretching through Hope's eyebrow, down to the edge of her eye, evidently just missing the eye, which was relieving.

"Hiya, Aunt Thalia," Hope said, waving two fingers and Thalia waved back a bit bemused as she looked to Remus where he was standing with his jacket looped over his arms and if Thalia's eyes were to be believed, hiding the sword Thanatos had left Hope with beneath. Yes, that would be rather awkward to explain.

"They gave her a pain potion," the werewolf offered helpfully and Thalia nodded in understanding, seeing the concern in the lines of his face that rippled the scars there. She had a feeling that he considered it one thing for him to end up with scars on his face but it was something else for his ward to experience the same.

"I don't know why it's not healing," the young healer complained. "The poison's out…and the longer its open the more likely it's going to scar."

"Wouldn't be the first time I got my face scarred," Hope seemed rather unperturbed as she made a general gesture to her forehead where the lightning bolt was as clear as day.

"Yes, well," the healer turned pink and Thalia arched an eyebrow towards Remus, it was something else for her to see Hope's fame out in the open, "I'm afraid it's quite likely at this point…but if you don't mind the scar…"

Hope shrugged carelessly.

The healer leaned behind her to grab a few things out of the cabinet there. "Okay, this might sting a little, but I want you to keep your eye closed."

She opened a jar of thick yellow past that had a rather foul smell, layering it over the cut before pasting a bandage carefully over it, securing it to her face.

"Okay, you're going to need to keep that on for about a day, then I want you to come back in tomorrow so I can see if its improved," the healer told Hope seriously and Hope bobbed her head seriously. "Other than needing to sign a few papers, you're free to go, Miss Potter. Why don't you take it easy the rest of the day?"

"Sounds like a plan," Hope agreed with a mocking salute rather clumsily and the healer gave a small laugh before leaving them.

"So what was it?" Thalia inquired as the door shut behind the healer.

"A mouthy Keres," Hope grumbled, but the scowl didn't work out quite as well as it did when she had two eyes in use.

Thalia grimaced. She hadn't been expecting them to find Hope as quickly; her use of Earth Magick worked in her favour, making her smell more like the earth than Thanatos to monsters.

"I want an _explanation,"_ Remus said shrewdly, and his tone brooked no argument; he'd make a great professor.

"I'm not entirely sure you'd understand it," Thalia mentioned carefully.

Pale green eyes narrowed further. _"Try me,"_ he dared.

Thalia glanced to Hope, unsurprised to see her lips twitching just slightly; like uncle, like niece, she supposed.

"As you're aware, this family has a bloodline with Thanatos, but he's not the only god to have children with mortals, and unfortunately, as I told Hope this morning, there's been a group that actively despises those who have even a drop of godly blood—"

"Hope said what attacked her was a _creature_ ," Remus pointed out, "not a _group."_

"I'm getting to that," Thalia said coolly. "Of the group that began in Ancient Greece, only one now remains, and whoever they are, they have been chipping away at a rather ancient and powerful structure that we know as the Gates of Tartarus."

"The Gates of Tartarus," Remus repeated.

"Greek Hell," Hope informed him, lightly touching at the bandage on her face, "the level worse than the Fields of Punishment."

"Yes, thank you, I might've gathered what it was." Remus rubbed at his forehead tiredly. "Why exactly are these 'Gates' important?"

" _Because,"_ Thalia stressed the word, "they hold the monsters not borne from violent acts at bay and the cracks that have been created can allow single monsters to leave every so often."

"Are the Keres borne from violent acts?" Hope inquired suddenly. "I know you said they're spirits of painful death…"

"They are," Thalia agreed, eyes shifting back to her, softening as she looked over the bandage over her eye, "usually from violent murders."

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't understand why she's having to deal with these monsters when I know for a fact her father didn't have the same difficulties."

Thalia's lips drew down into a distinct frown. "The number of monsters was undoubtedly lower when your friend was still alive and he had no idea of his relation to Thanatos, ignorance played in his favour. A harpy could've flown above him and wouldn't have known they were close to a descendant of Thanatos, or maybe Thanatos kept him shrouded, like he did for Hope until today."

"Why stop?" the question parted from Hope's lips before she could stop it.

"Because he's a god," Thalia sighed. "He knows he can't hold your hand forever. You have to start protecting yourself without his aid. That's how it works."

A muscle jumped in Remus' jaw and he muttered something about getting some air.

"I don't think he really gets all the stuff about Greek Myths and everything," Hope confided when he'd gone, her single eye thoughtful. "It's new and complicated and _dangerous_ …he just wants me to be safe."

"What about you?" Thalia came to sit beside Hope on the cot. Hope's legs were swinging underneath. She'd grown a little since December, she was a few inches taller than Aggie, Thalia was certain, but she was so young and small; Thalia could understand Remus wanting to preserve the legacy of his friends. "What d'you think?"

Hope shrugged again. "You know Dumbledore wanting to take me away from Remus? Back to the Dursleys?"

Thalia frowned. Hope didn't talk much about her mother's sister's family, but if Hope had run away from them at ten, she couldn't help but think there was a reason for that.

"He thought I'd be ' _safer_ '." Hope made sarcastic air-quotes with her fingers. "That's kind of the same, right?"

"Kind of," Thalia agreed before her brow furrowed. "Wait, your _headmaster_ wanted to remove you from Remus' charge? Because of his… _condition?"_ That seemed like a bit too much power for a headmaster, even one as well-known as Albus Dumbledore. He shouldn't have had that kind of authority.

Hope made a disparaging grunting sort of sound. "I don't like him," she remarked decisively, "I think he's a manipulative old codger."

Thalia arched an eyebrow in amusement.

"But about the Gates," Hope continued and Thalia's smile fell slightly, "the Keres on my lands…it seemed to think there was a way to open them completely."

That made Thalia pause. "If there is, I've never heard of anything like it, all I know of is a blood sacrifice of Thanatos' kin to shut it."

Hope paled, her eyes wide.

"Which you don't need to worry about," Thalia assured her quickly with hands open and extended. "We'll find the person responsible for trying to force them open and then we'll repair them so no more monsters can get through. Everything will work out, don't you worry."

"Okay." Hope's eyes drifted off slightly, the irises colouring the blue that Thalia saw reflected in the mirror and she smiled faintly. If James and Lily had lived to see the girl their daughter had become, she thought they would've been rather proud.

"Do the Keres' claws have poison?"

"Yes," Thalia said, glancing towards the table where she could see a thick vial of something black stoppered, "but generally it doesn't have much of an affect apart from slowing the healing process, as long as it's removed early on."

"So it'll scar." Hope raised a hand to touch to wound over the bandage.

"Do you mind?" Thalia watched her curiously. "A lot of girls don't like facial scars."

Hope gave her an impressively flat stare with only one eye. "Like I don't have any facial scars." She stabbed a finger at her forehead again and Thalia tweaked her nose with a laugh. "At least it didn't take out my eye…but I think I _really_ hate Keres, Aunt Thalia."

Thalia wound an arm around Hope's shoulders. "I do too."

* * *

"Are you all right?"

Remus jumped when he saw Hope sitting in the kitchen with a bag of ice against her eye and drinking tea noisily from her cup. Her cheeks were a bit flushed and she looked a bit tired, but apart from that, and the bandage across her eye, she looked relatively normal.

"What're you doing up?" he asked suddenly without answering her question.

Hope frowned, pointing at her eye. "It was stinging so I asked Mindy to get me a bag of ice."

"Ah," Remus nodded. "She could've gotten you some pain potion, though, it would probably work better, faster too."

"I like this better, it's nice and cool," Hope said simply, taking another long drink as she considered him, watching as he took out some bread and jam. "Remus…you know I love you, right?"

She couldn't see his eyes, but she could see how his back tightened and relaxed. "Of course, I know that, Hope."

"I know you're worried about me," Hope added, "but Aunt Thalia's right, you can't hold my hand forever."

Remus sighed again, taking the bread and jam over to where she was sitting. "Do you know how old I was when I was turned into a werewolf?"

"Five," Hope said without blinking her eye.

"But that didn't stop my parents from trying to keep me safe," Remus informed her seriously. "You may be incredibly self-sufficient and stubborn, but you're still a twelve-year-old child, Hope, and Lily and James wouldn't be pleased if I let you run off into danger."

"I would've thought Dad would be proud," Hope said in a rather off-hand manner and a sharp laugh escaped Remus.

"He would've been, but _Lily_ wouldn't've," Remus said. "I know that I live here as a guest and this is your home and you have your own way of doing things…all I ask is that you be as careful as you can manage."

Hope put down the ice. "Sounds fair," she acquiesced, "but you're _not_ a guest, Remus, you _do_ live here."

Remus smiled softly, cupping her cheek gently and Hope leaned into it. "Do I remind you of them anymore?"

"Not so much," Remus said as he brought his hand back, "I still think you're more like James, but you're also nothing like them."

" _Good,"_ Hope said, her eye glittering as she brought the bag of ice back to her eye. "Hey, Remus?"

"Hm?" Remus hummed around a bite of bread with strawberry jam.

"Do you think Sirius Black really killed those Muggles and Peter Pettigrew?"

Remus choked on his bread, barely managing to swallow before he gaped at her. "What?"

"I was just curious," Hope said, pursing her lips, but Remus never answered her question, more like he was trying to avoid it in the hope that Hope wouldn't bring it up again, which left Hope wondering if he thought that Sirius was actually guilty in the first place.

"Have you spoken with your friends recently?" he asked instead.

Hope frowned. "Earlier. Hermione said she sent me a letter or two, but I guess they got lost somewhere along the way…Daphne's in Greece already doing things with her family, but Hermione wants to stop by and see how I'm doing."

She rolled her only visible eye. "I told her I was going to be fine, but if she really wanted to see me, I'd rather go to her."

"Eager to get out of the house?" Remus laughed.

"Everyone always comes here," Hope complained under her breath, "I'd just like to change it up a little."

"Whatever works for you," he chuckled, watching as she put her empty cup in the sink, the ice still pressed against her eye.

"G'night," she called behind her, not waiting to hear the answering "good night" as she made her way tiredly back up to her bed.

Her shield-markers were hidden under her bed, her lantern was positioned securely on her bedside table with her wand next to it, the sword leaning against it. Hope thought she would get a good night of sleep despite the pain through her eyebrow ending just next to her eye.

But Hope still awoke in the middle of the night with a sharp burning in her stomach that had nothing to do with her eye.

And it made her very uneasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, book two has begun! As I said, book two is very Greek Myths-heavy, but will taper off into book three and onwards, and hopefully by now you guys realize that mythology is prevalent in this fic…if not, well, you do now!


	19. The Naiad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people seem to be looking forward to the 'Greek Myths Arc' of ST, and it's going to be amazing, I assure you.
> 
> Pirates are a big theme, if you haven't picked up on that yet, so consider this fic as going almost completely away from canon in that respect, but no Jack Sparrow in this fic, sorry but he's an entirely other fandom. But there was a lot of positivity towards there being more of them on tumblr, so there will definitely be more to see.

The thunder boomed overhead and lightning cracked as the rain came down in a downpour. The sea was churning around her. She almost careened over the edge that she had just climbed over, coughing viciously. There were figures rushing about, some swinging in on ropes from the ship opposite them. There was gunfire and the ring of swords clashing and the dulled echo of canons going off.

Hope might've walked into the Golden Age of Piracy and she wouldn't even have known.

Her body was moving, rushing around battling figures, men and women, it was difficult to tell in the rain and how no one appeared to stay in the same place for long.

She ducked around a sword as the boy at the helm was thrown back and the wheel swivelled to head them into deeper waters, into their opponent.

Something hit her and the boy yelled something, but Hope more focused on the wheel, grasping two of the handles and twisting it back, holding it vainly steady as she tried to keep them from crashing into the other ship.

"Hard to port!" she yelled and the lightning cracked again overhead and Hope jerked awake in her bed, breathing hard.

It had been a bad night for dreaming, that much was certain.

The thunder boomed suddenly and Hope jolted in her bed only to realize the latched window that led out into the stone balcony.

"Ah, _shite,"_ Hope muttered, throwing her covers off only to trip and fall to the ground from miscalculating with only one eye in use and having her blankets tangled around her legs.

Her grumble was muffled into the carpeting as she blinked her right eye, pulling herself upright and shaking the blankets off her legs as she made her way over to the window, rain pattering down on her arms as she extended them to draw the double windows closed, latching them once more.

Hope drew the curtains shut over the storm outside, only to part them quickly, thinking she'd seen something a flash or blue or green, or something like that, but when Hope looked again, she saw nothing.

A frown painted across her lips as she drew the curtains back once more, dropping a hand to linger over the heavy chain of the talisman she hadn't taken off since she'd found it. It was still warm against her skin.

"My mind is playing tricks on me," Hope muttered, turning her head only to jump at the sight of a girl standing next to her, ancient silvery eyes and with hair a mix of blues and greens.

Hope jolted awake, startled, her heart beating harshly against her ribs. A dream within a dream, and she didn't understand any of it.

* * *

"Honestly, you should've come straight here." Healer Buros was a man with salt and pepper hair and severe dark eyes, and Hope knew instantly this wasn't someone to cross. "Those English wizards are still living in the fourteenth century, and their healing practices are just as bad, no offense."

Hope arched the opposite eyebrow to the one he was working at. "None taken."

Thalia had popped over to the manor rather early to ask if she'd be willing to have a Greek healer look at her eye. Hope gathered that she didn't quite trust the healer Hope had had at the hospital, especially when the press had apparently caught wind of her brief stay there somehow and were currently theorizing what could've brought her in. Hope didn't know why they cared so much.

Healer Buros was an old friend of Thalia's and had evidently patched the Auror up a time or two, and he had been rather horrified that more hadn't been done for Hope's laceration.

"I won't mess with it if you don't care, but I honestly think stitches could do you some good," the healer had mentioned several minutes ago.

"I thought magical folk didn't use stitches," Hope had replied in confusion, earning her a groan of frustration.

" _English_ magical kind don't, but everyone else isn't as behind the times," he'd grumbled.

"Still can't feel a thing?" he asked her.

"I can feel you digging around under my skin, but it's just uncomfortable," Hope admitted. She was keeping that eye closed while he worked, but he'd taped it shut just to cover all his bases.

"Good, that spell's only good for localized pain," the healer agreed, "let me know if you feel any pain."

Hope remembered the time Petunia had knocked her head with a saucepan. "I'm fine."

"Well, you'll have a story to tell about your scar," Healer Buros had to concede. "It's always good fun to _embellish_ a little."

A short laugh parted from Hope's lips. "No one would believe me, anyways."

He winked. "Lying's always more fun, Miss Potter."

Her lips curved into the slightest smile as he snipped the suture thread close to the edge of her eye. "All right, you're done. I want you to come back in four days so I can take them out and we can see how well it's healing."

Hope nodded as he switched out the tape on her eye for a different kind, pasting a new bandage over her eye. "We don't use stitches back in England. Do you guys not use magical healing all the time?"

Healer Buros chuckled. "We prefer to integrate Muggle and Magical that stick firmly to Magical. Some people prefer to heal slowly, but I've treated Keres scratches before, they're designed to scar, so you were out of luck either way."

"Lucky me," Hope drawled out.

"But it doesn't look like the cut's infected, so that's good. We'll keep an eye on that," Healer Buros assured her. "But apart from that, you're free to go."

And he'd never seen someone leave his examination room so fast, but then he hadn't seen Hope's face pale at the sight of a face unlike hers reflected in her place on the round mirror mounted on the wall.

* * *

"Oh, _sweetie_ , Hermione said you had a bad cut but I didn't think it was that bad."

Hope shrugged a bit helplessly as she sat patiently on Hermione's bed, Mrs. Granger looking at her stitches closely while Hermione hovered behind, eyes wide.

"I think it looks worse than it really is," Hope admitted sheepishly, "I'm getting the stitches out in a few days."

The dentist hummed softly, pasting the bandage back in place over Hope's eye. "However did you get a cut that bad in the first place?"

Hope glanced to Hermione who furrowed her brow slightly.

"I tripped," Hope lied, "with a knife."

"You don't seem very clumsy," Mrs. Granger mentioned with an eyebrow arched.

Hope shrugged again. "It was a loose rug."

The lie was so flimsy that Hope was surprised that Mrs. Granger didn't pick up on it, but she was heading out to work soon, so it could've been that.

"Be more careful, Hope," Mrs. Granger reproached. "There's some food in the kitchen if you two get hungry. I'll be back for dinner with Dad."

"Bye!" Hermione waved after her mother before getting up to shut her door quickly and turning back to Hope. _"Talk."_

"Okay, remember how Thanatos is my ancestor?" Hope asked, breathing out sharply.

"I think you might've mentioned something about that," Hermione said dryly and Hope almost rolled her eyes.

"Well, apparently there're these creatures called Keres that're basically his opposite and they really hate him and his bloodline, and one found me and—" Hope mimed towards her face.

"Tried to take out your eye?" Hermione surmised.

"A bit, yeah," Hope scratched her cheek sheepishly.

"And that didn't scare you?"

Hope balked at that. "Of _course_ it scared me! I thought it was going to snap my neck!" She reached a hand up to press lightly against the skin there. She shivered, remembering how they looked.

Hermione's eyes were wide. "They must've been scary to freak you out that much." She didn't think she'd ever seen Hope the way she was now; cheeks pale, eyes darting around nervously.

She held out a mug of hot tea to Hope that her mother had brought up with her and Hope gave her a smile. "C'mon, Hope, what's going on?"

Hope took a long, slow drink of the tea, her fingers warm. "Have you ever heard of anything called the Gates of Tartarus?"

"Tartarus? Like part of the Underworld?" Hermione asked. Daphne had moderate knowledge of the Greek Myths, perhaps more than Hope, but she was less vocal about them than Hope was, like she was walking carefully around a gaping hole in the earth. Sometimes Daphne's fingers curled together like she was aching to holding something alike in width to a pole, but maybe Hermione was just seeing things that weren't there. Still, Hermione knew how much Hope had liked the Greek Myths and had looked up some of the myths.

"Eh, kind of, it's pretty deep down if it's in the Underworld," Hope had to concede, "it's where the monsters are…like the Minotaur, Chimera, Cyclopes, creatures like that."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly, leaning back so that her back was braced against her wall, "and what's the deal with the Gates of Tartarus?"

"Aunt Thalia says that recently someone's been chipping away at the Gates themselves, allowing monsters to come through," Hope frowned thoughtfully, "she and Galen fought a manticore a few days ago."

If Hermione noticed how Hope had switched for simply 'Thalia' to 'Aunt Thalia', she didn't comment on it. "Sounds like something out of an adventure book," she said instead.

"It does, doesn't it?" Hope responded with a dawning realization. "But Aunt Thalia was worried and Grandfather was concerned, leaving me a sword and everything. She wanted me to learn swordsmanship."

Hermione shot her a confused look. "And you _didn't_ want to learn how to use a sword? I would've thought that would've been right up your alley."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hope blinked.

" _Hope,"_ Hermione sighed with about as much patience as a mother whose child was refusing was refusing to see what was right in front of her, "you're _obsessed_ with a pirate ship, one that you want to one day find, maybe sail, pirates were _known_ to carry swords, you know."

Hope sulked and Hermione laughed. "I know you too well."

"That might be the problem," Hope grumbled. "How did you know that I wanted to sail _the Siren?_ I didn't say anything about that."

"We could tell," Hermione said with a smile that made her eyes glitter, "you always had that look whenever we were by the sea, like you'd rather be there than with us."

"I—" Hope's tongue tangled in her mouth. She hadn't even realized she was doing that until recently.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione assured her.

Hope took in a deep breath, trying to sort out her thoughts. "You know," she said, "if I ever did sail off in _the Siren_ …I'd ask you two to come with me."

Brown met green.

"Adventuring's no fun if you don't have any friends to share it with."

"I would've thought you'd ask Aggie," Hermione pointed out honestly.

"Oh, she'd probably want to come too," Hope agreed, "but you guys are my family too. I wouldn't just ditch you and run off into the unknown."

Hermione could imagine it, Hope on some old pirate ship, sailing the seas. She looked like she would be very at home on the seas, on a ship like that. Hermione didn't know if she would as well, but it was always the people that made a place, to the place itself.

"Besides, I'm probably slowly losing my mind anyways," Hope lamented.

"What?" Hermione asked, flummoxed.

"Okay, this is going to sound very crazy," Hope admitted.

"Most of the things you do _are_ crazy," Hermione pointed out and Hope pressed a hand to her chest, stung.

"They are _not!"_ she declared in outrage.

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Okay," Hope conceded in a mutter, "maybe I do _some_ crazy things."

Hermione stifled her snorts into the pillow she hugged to her chest, leaning forward slightly to grin at Hope.

"So, what's crazy?"

"All right, so, I had this dream," Hope's eyes drifted off with the memory, "and I woke up to a storm and when I went to fix the window, I saw something outside."

"Something?" Hermione probed. "Or someone?"

"It was a flash of blue and green," Hope said, pausing briefly, "I must've slipped off at some point, but I don't remember going back to bed, and the next thing I knew I was looking at this woman like I was still at the window and then I woke up…it's not possible to have a dream within a dream, is it?"

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. She wasn't big on divination and had always hated dream interpretation with Trelawney, but Hope did sound a bit caught off guard by whatever her dream was. "I'm not really sure. Daphne might know better, she's really into that Divination stuff, proper Divination, I mean, not whatever Trelawney was teaching."

"And then I saw her face in a mirror at the hospital!"

"What'd she look like?" Hermione inquired. "The woman?"

"The blue and green that I saw was _definitely_ her hair and she had these kind of pointed ears…she seemed old." Hope touched her own ears lightly. "I mean she looked young, but something was off about her eyes."

"Strange," Hermione murmured. "Maybe there's a spell for actually understanding dreams, you know, kind of like being awake in a dream."

"Maybe," Hope hummed to herself.

Hermione's eyes trailed over Hope's bandage once more. "Hope, maybe you should be more careful about what you get yourself into. It looks like you were lucky not to lose an eye."

Lips pursed and a jaw tightened. "I know."

Hermione knocked her shoulder against Hope's giving her a small smile. "Come on, there's some films downstairs that Mum borrowed from the library."

"Ugh, they _must_ be terrible." And they both laughed.

"And, you know, _apparently_ Daphne's sent you a letter, too, and if you didn't get that I'm starting to wonder if you messed up your wards somehow…"

* * *

"You must be Hope. I'll admit you aren't quite what I was expecting."

Arthur Weasley's eyes couldn't help but make the standard flick up to Hope's brow and she tried not to sigh.

"I do have a habit of never quite meeting expectations." Being respectful and polite seemed to be the way to go with the twins' parents, of course, respectful and polite seemed to be the best way to be in general around adults who had preconceptions about who she should be.

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Arthur said quickly and her lips twisted, but she said nothing else on the matter. He gathered that others had. "Fred and George say you want to hire them to look after your… _greenhouse?"_

He offered her a seat and a cup of tea and Hope graciously accepted. She seemed like any other Pure-blood heir he'd ever seen, polite, back straight, not a hair out of place in her intricate bun, but she didn't wear it as well, it wasn't as natural to her as it was to those that learned how to behave since birth.

"I need someone to look after the plants while I'm in Greece," Hope agreed, taking a sip of her tea. "I asked the twins if they'd be interested, but I think they'd be more interested in seeing what the manor looks like." Her eyes gleamed.

"We've told them to be very respectful and not to touch anything that doesn't belong to them," Arthur warned her.

"There's not really that much for them to get into," Hope couldn't help but laugh. "Except maybe the library, I suppose."

"Hey, Dad, have you seen my jumper?" A ginger blur descended the rickety staircase to appear in the kitchen opposite where Hope and Arthur were sitting on the long table. She was a small girl, shorter than Hope and thinner with fiery hair to her shoulders and freckles across a pale face, brown eyes widening when she saw who her father was with.

Hope arched the eyebrow that wasn't hidden under a bandage and the girl's cheeks burned with colour.

"I haven't seen it, Ginny," Arthur said easily, "but could you go grab Fred and George?"

The girl, Ginny, gave a jerky nod before darting off.

"My youngest, Ginny," he explained to Hope where she was sitting nonplussed, a bit perturbed himself. "She's not usually that… _quiet."_

Hope nodded in understanding. "I think Fred and George told me about her once or twice."

Arthur chuckled softly. "She's as much a hellion as they are." It was a good thing he'd suggested that Hope come over during the time Molly was out at the market. Molly had always regarded Slytherins with suspicion, mostly from her experience during school and he didn't quite think that she approved of their sons being friends with a Slytherin, even one that was the Girl-Who-Lived, but Arthur was a bit more trusting, and if Fred and George liked her, that was good enough for him.

There was a thundering down the stairs and a second later two grinning fourteen year olds appeared.

The first thing out of Fred's mouth was: "What happened to your eye?"

" _Fred!"_ Arthur reproached and George scrutinized the bandage intently.

"A spell backfired," Hope said in a rather bland tone.

"And you lost an eye?" George's eyes went impossibly wide.

"Don't be _ridiculous,"_ Hope scoffed, waving a careless hand, "my eye's _fine."_

Both Fred and George shared a dubious look, but Arthur was more surprised that they didn't press further; they were a rather curious lot.

"I hope you two aren't going to be killing any of my plants," Hope added, "I won't thank you for that."

"Nope," Fred shook his head.

"Not at all," George agreed.

Hope scratched her cheek awkwardly. "I'm, uh, not entirely sure how much I should be paying you…does fifty galleons for the summer sound fair?"

"I think that might be a bit too much," Arthur said quickly, his expression pained and even Fred and George, who never brought up their general lack of money, appeared surprised at the amount.

"That's all right, I care a lot about my plants," Hope said, eyes steely and grin sly, turning her eyes on the twins. "Potter Manor can be found in Wales on the edge of Caernarfon Bay. I've added you to the wards so you won't be vaporized instantly."

Fred grinned. "That's a joke, right?"

Hope smirked, but her eyes glinted in a way that made it rather impossible to tell if she was just pulling their legs or if she was being honest.

She turned back to Arthur. "Do you mind if I borrow them for a little bit, to show them where everything is?"

Arthur rubbed at his brow tiredly, feeling a headache coming on; he had a feeling that Hope was rather headache-inducing. "Yes, if they don't mind."

"We don't," the twins said as one, grins wide.

Hope shook her head with a fond smile before rising from the table to walk around it to the sitting room where she'd popped out minutes before.

She stepped into the fireplace and caught the sight of a pair of curious brown eyes on the stairs and she winked in their direction before dropping the Floo Powder.

"Potter Manor," she stated clearly and disappeared in a flash of green fire.

She'd stepped out onto the rug to see Remus lounging on the nearby couch with bag of ice on his knee joint.

"What happened?" she asked quickly, her face and voice coloured with concern.

"Nothing too serious," Remus chuckled lightly as the fire disgorged George coughing loudly. "My knee always acts up around this time."

Hope frowned, crossing her arms. He meant right before the full moon, which was that night, and Hope's store of Wolfsbane Potion wouldn't yet be ready, so this was going to be the first time in several months that Remus wouldn't be a Werewolf curled up in his room, not a threat to anyone, but powerless and wild, racing through the Potter Lands.

"I'll be fine," he assured her with a soft smile as Fred appeared, before looking past her. "Besides, it seems that we have some guests."

Fred and George had been looking around the sitting room with something akin to awe, at its high-reaching arching ceiling, at its large stone fireplace with pictures mounted atop it. George could only guess that the young man with wild dark hair and glasses was Hope's father and the woman with green eyes and long dark red hair was her mother, with the small bundle between them Hope herself. There was another of the three girls together, Hope, Hermione, and Daphne, another of Hope and the man before them, and the last had clearly been taken at Christmas-time with the pair as well as a young blonde girl, a dark haired boy, and a red-haired woman and girl. The pictures were so casual given how immaculate the room they were in looked.

The manor, as Hope had called it, looked very big for two people to be living in it.

Hope pursed her lips before relenting. "You remember Fred and George Weasley? We were in that prank war with them, and they lost terribly."

" _Oi!"_ Fred complained. "We didn't lose!"

"You didn't win either," Hope pointed out.

George stifled his snort and Remus allowed himself a small smile. "And are they staying long?"

"They're going to be looking after the greenhouse while we're in Greece," Hope explained and Remus gave her a look. _"What?"_

"You'd trust someone other than Mindy in your greenhouse?" He asked in surprise. Hope was a huge stickler about her plants.

Hope winked. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

The twins sniggered and Remus sighed. "I'm probably better off not knowing, aren't I?"

Laughter bubbled from her lips and she twitched her fingers towards the twins, gesturing for her to follow her up the stairs and not towards the back door that led outdoors, with the greenhouse close by.

"He's your uncle, right?" George asked as they followed her up the steps.

"Something like that," Hope said, a smile painting across her lips. "He's a friend of my parents, the last one that's not dead or stuck in prison."

Fred and George shared a look behind her. "You're parents had a friend that's in prison?"

Hope hummed in agreement, but she didn't elaborate.

"Did a spell really backfire on your eye?" Fred asked, unable to help himself and Hope paused walking down the long hallway.

Then, surprisingly, she sighed and turned around, lifting the surgical tape that held the bandage in place to allow the twins to lean forward and see the harsh line and the stitches that held the skin together.

"What're those?" George asked, eyes wide. "It looks like you sewed your skin together with needle and thread!"

"They're stitches and they'll be taken out in a few days when it's a bit more healed." Hope rolled her single eye as she brought the bandage back down, pasting it back in place.

"How'd you get it?" Fred inquired.

"I picked a fight with a monster," Hope said dryly before pulling open the door beside her and gestured the twins inside.

"Did you win?" George asked with a grin.

"Mostly," Hope acquiesced as she shut the door. "Now, this is my potions room."

And both looked around with wide eyes. Maybe the room was larger than it seemed, or maybe it had an expansion charm on it, it was difficult to tell.

There were potions ingredients bottled and stoppered in the shelves against the walls with a table set up in the centre, one cauldron resting on it on a low simmer, its contents murky and simmering.

Hope knelt to pull a drawer open under the table, withdrawing a bundle of parchment with familiar writing on them. "Your notes are here. You can use any of the ingredients, just let me know if I'm running low, and clean up after yourself."

"You're serious?" Fred blinked at her owlishly. "I mean, some of these ingredients are…expensive."

"Then experiment in moderation," Hope said with a smirk.

He cradled her face in his hands and kissed both her cheeks soundly and whatever George had been expecting, it wasn't the rather flummoxed expression her face now bore.

"You're so _weird,"_ she complained, swatting him.

"You love me!"

"That's debatable," Hope grumbled, crossing her arms, her lower lip jutting out just slightly. It was adorable.

"So really, you're paying us to just stick around your…house…for an hour or two every day?" George pointed out. "And just experiment?"

"I don't like people poking around in my greenhouse and I'm not entirely sure you two won't kill my plants," Hope agreed.

" _Oi!"_ this time both of them complained and Hope's eyes gleamed a bright hazel.

"Don't worry about it," she said to George, "you can use the money to work on your little projects. I've looked at your notes, they're good, no matter what your mother says."

"You're not that bad of an inventor, either," George pointed out, remembering the pranks she and her friends had pulled over on him and Fred. They were rather good, if he had to say so himself.

"I'd rather stick to magic I know, thanks," Hope laughed. "The girls and I were running out of ideas when you lot offered that truce."

"So technically we won," Fred added cheekily.

"Nice try." Hope smiled thinly. "We broke even, Weasley."

"You couldn't just give us a little more?" Fred wheedled with a whine and Hope made an amused sound in the back of her throat.

"You're out of luck, Weasley."

* * *

Hope worked at shredding the Devil's Claw in her greenhouse, pausing at the distinct sound of howl in the distance. She was safe even in the confines of the greenhouse, the protective enchantments around the manor extended to the greenhouse, but Hope wasn't worried about that. Her jaw worked viciously.

It was her fault that Remus was out there running around without control. She should've realized how low he was getting on Wolfsbane Potion and made more, though Remus reminded her that with that thinking he could be to blame as well, but the Wolfsbane Potion was complicated and he didn't have Dianthe's notes on how to brew it better than the book described.

And his leg was acting up again.

Hope added small pieces of White Willow Bark to the Devil's Claw and adding a spoonful of powdered Tumeric to the mixture in her mortar before grinding them all together with the pestle.

The mixture was something that could be good for the swelling in his knee and the pain and would be best drunk in tea. She tipped the contents in the mortar into a bag, freezing again at the sound of another howl.

The full moon shone down on her, eerie and luminous.

* * *

Hope was sure she looked a sight with the skin close to her eye stitched together, now exposed to the air, a small bag looped over an arm and the sword Thanatos had left her at her hip.

She thought Thalia was starting to make her rather paranoid, because suddenly every whistle and wind through trees could've been a Keres lurking, invisible, or a manticore like the one that had bruised up Galen and Thalia not long ago.

Things were certainly simpler when Hope didn't have to think about the possibility of being attacked by Ancient Greek monsters. Now the world was bigger and stranger than ever.

Rocks crunched under Hope's boots as she made the slow hike up to the homely house on the hill. Hope pulled the letter out of her pocket, looking at the wrinkled directions with a frown. There weren't any other houses nearby, so the one before her could be the only possible choice.

Hope spared a single glance towards the palm of her hand that still bore the image of the Philosopher's Stone before taking in another breath and continuing on.

It was a test, she was certain of it, when Nicolas Flamel had given her the week to keep the Philosopher's Stone; she had to wonder if he had honestly believed that she would honour their agreement. If not, she was going to be _very_ miffed.

Hope took the last step to stand on the porch of the modest house –really, you would've never thought that it belonged to a famous alchemist who'd been alive for more than six hundred years–, raising a hand and rapping her knuckles lightly against the door.

There was the soft sound of footsteps from within before the door was opened by a stout woman with worn wrinkles that didn't seem to quite tell just how old she was.

"Mrs. Flamel?" Hope presumed.

"Yes," the woman agreed kindly before her, "can I help you?"

"I'm, um, Hope Potter," Hope said, trying not to sound too awkward, but it was difficult work. "I think your husband is expecting me?"

"Oh, yes," Perenelle Flamel chuckled softly, "you'll have to forgive me for my surprise. He wasn't _entirely_ certain that you'd show up."

Hope was vaguely stung, though she had to think that that belief was from experience rather than judging Hope harshly despite not knowing her.

"Please, come in," Perenelle continued, stepping aside to allow Hope to cross the threshold, eyes darting down to the sword at Hope's hip, her lips curling faintly. "Nicolas is running an errand at the moment, if you don't mind waiting to see him."

The hand that held the Philosopher's Stone felt heavier than usual. "I don't mind," Hope assured her.

Perenelle directed her inwards into the sparse sitting room that gave Hope the feeling that they didn't guests all that often. She had her wand out in seconds and the next thing Hope knew, she was sitting in an armchair, and there was a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she looked around the room with interest.

There was a painting mounted on the wall, a ship moving against the tides.

"It's called the _Golden Fleece_."

"Excuse me?" Hope said, turning her eyes back to Perenelle who smiled almost knowingly, her eyes shifting to the painting as well.

"The ship in the painting, it's called the _Golden Fleece_ ," Perenelle said, rather amused by her interest. "It was captained by a young naiad named Nomia, or, at least it was when I was a crewman on it."

Green eyes blew wide. "You were a pirate?" Somehow Perenelle didn't seem much like the pirating type, but that might've been because she was some six hundred years old.

"For a few years," Perenelle agreed. "Right out of Beauxbatons, it wasn't a choice my parents were particularly pleased with, I think they were happier when I came home and met Nicolas and decided to settle down."

Hope wrinkled her nose at the thought. Who would give up sailing the seas in order to settle down? Hope couldn't imagine it.

"Is it just a passing fancy you've got in pirate ships?" Perenelle's words brought her back and Hope blinked.

"Oh, no," she said quickly, "I'm actually descended from two pirates, Nelda Slytherin and Damian Blackwood."

"Are you _really?"_ Perenelle's eyebrows arched. "Nomia spoke of Nelda often. I think they were old friends, though it was hard to think of Nomia being _anyone's_ old friend," Perenelle had to concede before explaining when Hope's brow furrowed in confusion. "Nomia has always looked rather _young_ , I don't think she aged at all from the time I knew her to when I saw her later in life… have you ever been to Singapore?"

"Um," Hope's words fumbled in her confusion, "that place in…Asia?" Hope wasn't really the best at geography.

"Malasia," Perenelle corrected with a chuckle and Hope hid her embarrassment in a sip of her tea. "But that's a very different Singapore."

"There are two Singapores?" Hope asked dubiously, crossing one of her legs, making her sword shift awkwardly against her hip.

"Well, they had to move the pirate port, didn't they?" Perenelle gave a small jerk of her head. "After all those officials coming down hard on piracy, they couldn't just sit there, could they? Singapore became a ghost town in the dead of night."

"But I've never heard of pirates being around now," Hope pointed out.

"Well, of course _not,"_ Perenelle laughed. "They've gotten better at what they do. If no one lives to tell the tale, then no tales are told."

"So…there's a hidden Singapore pirate port that no one can find?" Hope asked archly, still partially dubious but also intrigued. This wasn't like anything she'd ever heard of, but given that they were pirates, it wasn't entirely unsurprising.

"Oh, there's definitely more than one," Perenelle's eyes twinkled as she regarded Hope, but she never had the chance to elaborate before the door creaked open and the sound of heavy footsteps followed it into the sitting room.

" _Ah,"_ Nicolas Flamel said in surprise, "you actually showed."

Hope's expression darkened in her petulance and both Flamels shared a laugh as Nicolas shrugged out of his robes, hanging them on the wall behind him before settling down beside his wife.

"At least you can still be surprised at your age," Hope couldn't help but grouch, but that only made Nicolas smile so Hope relented, holding her hand out, palm up, the image of the Stone displayed on her skin. " _ **Apokalýptoun éna antikeímeno**_ ," she intoned and the Stone rose out of her hand until she could grasp it easily.

"Your Stone," she said, leaning forward to offer it to him and Nicolas held it easily in his hand.

"Impressive," Nicolas said, weighing it in his hand, feeling its grooves and ascertaining that it was indeed the genuine article, "how far along are you into your Earth Magick studies?"

A frown pulled the edges of her lips downwards. "Not as far as I'd like to be," she admitted, "but I learned the hard way not to try the advanced spells when I'm not advanced myself." Hope grimaced, remembering coughing up blood after the incident with the troll.

"Ah, yes, I remember being that young," Nicolas chuckled and Perenelle didn't bother to hide her amusement.

"Do you?" Hope's unstitched eyebrow arched.

"I may be old, but my memory isn't _yet_ gone," the alchemist assured her and Hope wasn't entirely certain he believed him; there was no way he wasn't a little forgetful at six hundred ninety some years of age…was there? "Tell me, what enchantment did you use my unrefined gold for?"

And it was only then that Hope dug into her bag to pull out one of the shield-markers, extending it to him and he took it with a surprise that echoed on Perenelle's face.

"These are shield-markers," Perenelle said, taking the golden obelisk from her husband. "You made them yourself?"

"Yes," Hope said without blinking.

"It's _very_ impressive," Nicolas said with emphasis. "You must be proud."

"I am," Hope agreed. She had felt the power in the protective enchantments when she'd completed the spell, she knew that they would work if she ever set them up around a structure. "Thank you for allowing the week for me to use your Stone."

"I'm sure you could've made something more with it," Nicolas pointed out. "Maybe even a solid piece of gold, or saved some of the Elixir of Life."

"Mr. Flamel, can your Elixir of Life heal?" Hope asked suddenly.

"No, it simply preserves," Nicolas had to admit.

"Then it's of no use to me," Hope responded with a certainty that surprised both Flamels. "I have more gold than I could ever use, and I don't believe in prolonging life as you have, it goes against my beliefs."

"What beliefs are those?" Perenelle inquired curiously, taking another sip of her tea.

Hope smiled thinly. "Mrs. Flamel, my family is descended from the god of death, Thanatos, himself. And I believe that you only get one chance in life and the only people that get to live longer than humanly possible are mythical or mystical beings." Hope paused, breathing out slowly. "When your thread is cut, your thread is cut. When you die, you die. My parents died when I was very small, but I'm not even sure they would've wanted to live as long as you have, not if they had to watch everyone they loved age around them and die."

If Nicolas was stunned by her response, he didn't mention it, but he did mull over her thoughts silently.

"I should be heading back," Hope muttered more to herself than to the Flamels, setting her cup of tea down on the small table beside her and standing, a movement that Perenelle replicated.

"I'll walk you out," Perenelle suggested with a kindly smile, returning Hope's shield-marker to her.

Hope was silent until she stood at the door, ready to leave. "I'm sorry if I came off as rude," she said, her eyes shifting up to Perenelle's and the French witch's smile widened.

"Oh, don't be," Perenelle assured her. "It's a change of pace to hear someone against immortality, usually it's all that people want; to live forever."

Hope thought about Thanatos and how sad he sometimes seemed to be.

"I suppose a child of Thanatos would prefer death, though," Perenelle surmised and Hope blinked.

"Nomia had a lot of stories, some about the gods, some about people that lived centuries ago or more, it wasn't that far of a stretch to imagine that the gods were real," Perenelle explained. "I did meet Brizo once, though, she was very impressive."

"Brizo?" Hope wasn't familiar with the name.

"Brizo, the goddess of sailors and mariners and prophetic dreams." Perenelle's fondness was clear. "She was the one that told me that my fate wasn't with the sea, it was on land. I explained things to Nomia, we parted at the port and I literally ran into Nicolas and never looked back."

Prophetic dreams…now that made Hope think of her strange dream from a few days ago with the girl with wildly coloured hair.

"Thank you for returning the Stone yourself," Perenelle added. "We'll remember that."

For how long, Hope couldn't really say, because there was something about the way she spoke that gave Hope the feeling that they were getting all of their affairs in order.

So Hope inclined her head and thanked her for the tea before leaving the way she had come, and Perenelle shut the door behind her before returning to her husband's side where he was still sitting, moving the Stone around in his hand thoughtlessly.

"Very interesting girl," Nicolas finally said.

"Very interesting pirate," Perenelle corrected and he chuckled faintly.

"Maybe one day," he acquiesced, "but not yet."

"My intuition is never wrong," Perenelle said with an assurance that only experience could bring. She was no prophetess, but she didn't need to be; some things were written in the stars.

* * *

The heels of Hope's shoes echoed loudly on the floor as she moved through the library, her fingers smoothing across the bindings of the books, searching out one subject in particular.

 _Dream Magic: The Key to Understanding the Subconscious by Sigmund Fenwin_ …now that looked _promising._

Hope rolled the ladder over to the section of the library shelves where the book itself was located, going up three rungs in order to grab it before finding the nearest seat and sitting down, thumbing through the pages with partial interest.

Hermione might think she was a bit obsessed, but Hope really couldn't help it this time. That dream had been plaguing her mind since the day she'd had it. The girl was important, whoever she was, why, Hope didn't yet know.

She skimmed for a few moments before starting to read.

… _I have found that the best way to discover the true meaning of dreams is through lucid dreaming. Lucid dreaming is when the caster is in the dream and is aware that they dreaming, allowing them to take charge of it, directing it in the direction they wish. When you dream, your options are limitless._

_Generally, lucid dreaming can be used to confront fears, things that are blocks to you during your waking state. However, the downside is that dreams that might have been scary in a vague manner are terrifyingly realistic due to heightening your senses during the dream. But lucid dreaming does open the way to you gaining an understanding into the reasons behind your dreams._

_Lucid dreaming, while well-intentioned, might not be the best option for everyone. Someone who has nightmares about a death in the family might relive that moment over and over again. Someone who dreams of falling from great heights when that is their fear might find themselves with a greater fear of heights._

_But I am a firm believer in the power of lucid dreaming and a good spell to use is the one listed below._

Hope looked downwards. It was a two part spell involving a powdered mixture and an incantation. Still, it was rather simple.

She took the book with her to the potion's room before grinding the rosemary, vervain, shredded peppermint leaves, ground peony roots, and mugwort before taking the powdery substance back to her room, being careful not to inhale it too much, wary of its potency.

"Okay," Hope murmured to herself, grabbing up her wand from the bedside table, pointing it at the mortar and taking in a deep breath.

" _Sentio somnium_ ," she intoned, a white jet of light leaving her wand tip and hitting the mixture, causing a cloud of powder to rise into the air and hit her in the face.

"Wow," Hope coughed viciously, "that's _strong_ , that's—"

Hope's eyes rolled back in her head and the mortar and wand slipped from her hands as she fell back against the mattress, asleep before she even hit the cushions.

* * *

Green eyes blinked a few times as her vision cleared, the ground tilting under her feet. It was a room of some sort, made solidly of wood with windows to the back that showed the outside.

Hope's eyes widened at the sight at the endless blue sea.

"What about Tortuga?" a voice asked and Hope looked up to realize that she wasn't alone and she twisted to see a head of blue and green leaning over a table, a map spread across it, her fingers trailing over the dark ink painted across the worn parchment. The one that had spoken was a man, older with a beard dark with a few sparse white hairs.

"No, Léon says more sea monsters have sprung up around the port, it's not possible to dock there," the girl said.

"We need to restock," the man insisted, "if not Tortuga, then somewhere else."

"Do not tell me what I already _know_ , James," the girl warned, raising her head to fix the man with a steely gaze. _"I_ am the captain of this ship and my word is _law."_

Hope could see a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"You're excused," the girl informed him flatly and James made a grumble low in his throat before complying with her command, leaving the room, the door shutting loudly behind him.

Silence fell as silvery eyes returned to the parchment and Hope swallowed thickly, wondering if she should say something, but she had no idea if she could actually communicate in a dream.

"Am I dreaming?" Hope finally spoke, her words weak in her throat and the girl smirked before twisting around in order to fix her eerie eyes on Hope, giving Hope the feeling that she'd known that Hope had been there the whole time.

"Unfortunately not," the girl said, leaning against the table and crossing her arms.

She looked how Hope would expect a pirate to, a loose green linen shirt under a worn vest, both having a few suspicious dark stains that Hope suspected might've been blood, with a sword belt from one shoulder to the opposite hip, holding a sturdy sword in place.

"I'm Nomia, Captain of the _Golden Fleece_ ," the girl said, leaning forward with interest as she considered her, and then a smile broke across her face. "You're related to Nelda Slytherin, aren't you?"

"I'm, um, her descendant," Hope admitted, "one of them."

"There's more?" Nomia's eyes gleamed.

"I've got an aunt, Thalia, and two cousins, Galen and Aggie," Hope admitted before looking around. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming? The spell I was doing was for lucid dreaming."

"You must not've been focusing enough on the spell, then," Nomia laughed, light and airy and young, but Hope wasn't fooled, not after what Perenelle had said about her, how old she was. "You're not dreaming, but you have inadvertently Astral Projected…it's not recommended to the untrained, you need more focus for it to work."

" _Great,"_ Hope groaned out loud, her shoulders sagging with.

"So what's your name?"

Hope's name tangled in her mouth. "Elpis," she said finally, "Elpis Slytherin."

"Ambitious name," Nomia said with a nod, uncrossing her arms to press her hands against the table, "but not your only one I think."

"No," Hope agreed, but she didn't elaborate. She didn't like how 'the Girl-Who-Lived' was always tacked onto the end of Hope Potter, like it was all one name. It was easier to be Elpis Slytherin, even when most believed the name didn't belong to her.

"I had a dream about you," Hope said, drawing Nomia's attention away from her name. "And then I saw you in a reflection in a mirror at the hospital."

Nomia arched an eyebrow, tilting her head back slightly and Hope could now see a silvery-white scar crisscrossing across her cheek, deep enough that it looked like it hadn't healed properly, even for a naiad; her being a naiad might've been why the scarring was the colour it was.

"Curious," she said and Hope thought back to the day she'd met Mr. Ollivander and he'd said something similar.

"Curious?" Hope repeated.

"Curious," Nomia agreed, "because _I_ had a dream about _you."_ Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the girl in front of her. "But you were covered in blood at the time."

Hope's face went bloodless at the thought.

"But sometimes dreams are just dreams." Nomia heaved a heavy sigh, turning around to direct her attention to the map once more. "I've had more than enough of those."

Hope could relate to that. "So you're a pirate?" she asked, following Nomia around the table. "And you knew Nelda?"

Nomia's lips curved upwards into a smile. "Yes, she was the one that gave me a place on her crew, actually. I'd been part of the sea so long…I'd wanted to go travelling, so she gave me clothes and some money and I set out across Greece."

"How'd you become a pirate, then?" Hope asked in confusion.

"I tried to go home," Nomia explained, rubbing a hand over her knuckles which were white and tight against her skin, "but I'd spent so much time out of the sea that my sisters no longer recognized me. They attacked me when they saw me." She tapped a hand against her cheek, frowning now. "They gave me this…so I turned to Nelda, and she gave me a home, always close to the sea, up until _the Siren_ retired, but I didn't have too much trouble rising in the ranks after Nelda was gone."

Nomia bit the inside of her cheek and then she straightened up, striding towards Hope, a bit too close, but Hope strained not to lean back. If she hadn't known better, she would've thought that Nomia was a little older, maybe around fifteen; she couldn't have looked older than sixteen.

There was a sliding of metal and then Hope's sword was balanced evenly in her hand.

"Aegean Iron," Nomia recognized. "Expecting a mythical attack, Miss Elpis?"

"Never hurts to be prepared," Hope said, reaching out for it when Nomia stepped back with it, running her hand over it before murmuring a few words in Greek, making the sword glow and Hope watched as the blade thickened before her eyes.

"A broadsword will suit you better," Nomia informed her, holding it out to her. "Rapiers are more likely to break. A broadsword will do more damage to your enemies."

Hope took it from her tentatively, feeling the new weight in her hand.

"Who gave it to you?" Nomia asked curiously and Hope paused before sliding it back into place at her hip.

"Thanatos," Hope conceded, "he's my ancestor."

"Is he?" Nomia appeared surprised at that. "He was never really a god to have children."

Adeliade Peverell must've been quite something.

"He had three," Hope told her dryly, "my cousins are descended from his firstborn, Antioch, and I'm from his third, Ignotus."

"And of the second?"

Hope's lips thinned into a line. "He's gone, less than human, after killing my parents."

Tragedy did seem to run in Hope's family, unfortunately. She still had no idea how Adrian could have caused the deaths of Morea, Nelda, and Damian in a single night only to perish a month later…the circumstances around the latter were strange, to say the least.

"So," Nomia said, "your…?"

"Grandfather," Hope inputted.

"Your _grandfather_ left you with a sword and didn't tell you how to use it?"

"He left me with the sword, but Aunt Thalia offered to teach me," Hope disagreed. "But I'm not a physical person…I'm still not sure that I'd be very good at it."

Nomia chuckled softly. "Then how did you get that wound on your eye?"

Hope lifted a hand to where her skin was still stitched.

"Did you use your sword during that incident?" Nomia probed.

"Yes," Hope loathed admitting it.

Nomia looked like she was close to laughing. "You didn't want to learn swordsmanship because it gives people another reason to judge you and treat you with suspicion."

"I never said that," Hope countered quickly, her cheeks flushing at the implication.

"You didn't have to; it's written on your face."

There was a sudden jolt that sent Hope falling to the floor with yells from outside it, like something was rocking the ship.

Nomia didn't say anything, but the next thing Hope knew, she'd received a solid strike to the chest and woke up in her bed with a start.

* * *

"Do you ever think the world is a little too… _strange?"_

Daphne arched an eyebrow. "Isn't it supposed to be?" she asked.

They were sitting in the shallows of Caernarfon Bay, the water soaking into the skin, cool and a welcome respite from the heat of the day.

"I guess," Hope said almost forlornly, her eyes fixed on the horizon as if searching for something, "but I didn't think it was quite _as_ strange."

Daphne twisted the end of her braid. "There's always going to be monsters, that's what Nana says, they just take different forms."

Hope's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Nana's the great-great-granddaughter of a goddess," Daphne explained and Hope's eyes widened, "Astoria and I got the talk from her a few days ago about not going anywhere without a spear." She nodded to Hope's sword, its image rippling over the water where it was hidden underneath. "It's not all bad."

Hope pointed aggressively at her eye and Daphne grimaced. "What I mean is…so what if you're the descendant of Thanatos? Some monsters like godly blood but some prefer Muggles, and that's something you can't fix."

Hope heaved a heavy sigh. "I used to dream about the gods, you know?" she lamented. "That they were real, that heroes and monsters and dryads and naiads were real…I have to admit the actual thing is _quite different_ than I dreamed."

Daphne's lips curled upwards in one corner. "Isn't that the way life is?"

"Then life is very disappointing," Hope groaned, flopping back into the water, soaking her back and her hair where the water could touch it. "Why can't life be _fun?"_

Daphne laughed loudly. "You're just a pessimist."

"There's being a pessimist, and then there's being a realist," Hope informed her. " _This_ is realism."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Hope couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from her lips at that.

"Did I tell you Astoria is thinking about asking about skipping a year at Hogwarts?" Daphne looked down at Hope, who had shut her eyes against the sun.

"Yeah, taking after her big sis?" Hope's unstitched eyebrow twitched slightly. "Going to try to do two years in one?"

"She's not as crazy as we were," Daphne sniggered.

"Just you wait," Hope assured her knowingly, "I hear it's genetic."

Laughter filled the air for a brief time and then Hope opened her eyes against the sun to see it shining down on the endless surf. It must be even more beautiful in Greece than it was here, warmer too.

"You still haven't gotten any of my letters, have you?" Daphne asked her.

"Is that still going on?" Hope complained. "There _must_ be something wrong with the owls! My mail _cannot_ just _disappear!"_

"Maybe you've been cursed," Daphne suggested sagely.

"I _hate_ curses," Hope grumbled under her breath.

"Really, what gave it away?"

Hope pouted with an emphasis that had Daphne howling into the water.

* * *

She'd looked at the sword for the longest time, she didn't even know why. Maybe Nomia was right about her, maybe she didn't want to give another reason for people to look at her like they already did.

She'd tried to be a good student, a good heir, a good witch, but which one did she actually want to be?

And Hope couldn't deny how comfortable the hilt of the blade felt in her hand.

Things were changing, but was she really pretending to be something she wasn't? Even Hope couldn't be certain.

The only thing stopping her was her own fear, and Hope had had enough of that.

* * *

There was an apparition field set up at an airport in Athens to make things less suspicious to Muggles for witches and wizards apparating from outside the city or country that were in need of a common location, and airports were used to vast amounts of people coming and going.

"Oh my _gods!"_ Hope was having a lot of trouble stifling her laughter at Remus. "You look ridiculous!"

"I do _not!_ I look like a tourist!"

Remus did, in fact, look a bit ridiculous with his colour scheme, not in his usual tweed vest and pants, and Hope certainly outdid him in appearing relatively normal with a simple blue sundress.

"Is _that_ what you're going for?" Hope very nearly cackled, even keeping her arm looped in his, more worried about being lost in the crowd than anything else. Mindy had taken their bags before them and was waiting for them at one of the Potter properties in Greece that they'd be staying at, even though Thalia had offered that they stay with the Blackwoods; Remus and Hope hadn't wanted to impose. "You look like a confused man in his mid-life crisis!"

They descended the stairs slowly, but with Remus' limp less prominent than it had been before, so Hope counted that as a success. He'd be able to go without the cane for a few weeks until the full moon rolled around once more.

"Hey, over here!" Hope and Remus looked up to see Aggie grinning not far away, positively bouncing on her feet and holding a sign that said _"Potter-Lupin"_ with Dianthe standing beside her, clearly trying to restrain the girl as best as she could.

"You're here!" Aggie threw her arms around Hope once her cousin had gotten close enough. "I have _so many_ things I want to show you and the food down here is _great_ and—"

" _Breathe_ , Aggie!" Dianthe laughed as she reminded her boyfriend's sister. "And try not to kill Hope, will you? She's only just gotten here."

Aggie pouted and Hope smiled.

"Miss Blackwood and Gal are still at the office," Dianthe explained lightly, "so I was volunteered to mind the little one."

" _Little one?"_ Aggie complained. "I'm not much younger than you!"

Dianthe arched an eyebrow, unimpressed and Agathe huffed under her breathe. Then Dianthe turned back to Hope and Remus. "Welcome to Greece," she said.

* * *

Dumbledore had long since regarded Hope Potter as a curiosity. She was proof that all his past actions had been for nothing. It had been necessary, he had told himself several times, that she be placed with her aunt's family. Keeping her separate from the magical world had been of paramount importance, even if he'd had to guilt Petunia into taking in her niece in the first place.

Almost as important as keeping her ignorant of the prophecy that had resulted in the deaths of her parents.

Hope was raw and untempered and dangerous, and in many ways she reminded him far too much of the young Tom Riddle and he had caused much death; who was to say that Hope couldn't end up like him and cause the same?

It was better that she was kept from that prophecy.

Surely she had known the negative connotations that the House Slytherin had prior to being Sorted. Dumbledore had been certain she would choose different when it had been placed on her head.

But she hadn't.

Still, by the end of the year, Dumbledore had to admit he was impressed that the girl who seemed to want nothing to do with anything outside of finishing her schoolwork and pranking the Weasley twins had gone after the Stone.

So, despite his misgivings, she had a strong moral compass, which was good, his hard work had paid off somehow, but she hadn't been pleased with him after everything was said and done about the chamber, mostly to do with the Mirror of Erised, a priceless family heirloom she had claimed it to be, made by Salazar Slytherin himself. But Dumbledore had never known whether to believe Hope concerning her relation to the founder.

The Potter Family tree past the Peverells had vanished from all record, so it was impossible to check either way.

He'd tried to replicate the last image in the Mirror to see what Hope had seen, but the image was warped somehow…a boat? A _ship?_ Why would her deepest desire be a ship?

She wasn't an easy person to control, and he'd already tried his hand at that, trying to force her to return to Privet Drive and leave Remus. It was a poor decision, given how he'd always spoken for Remus before, and she hadn't forgiven him for that.

Very territorial, that one.

But he had a feeling that this year, this was a year of _changes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've introduced a plot or two that won't be important until later on in the fic, but keep an eye on Nomia, she'll be around :) Second book is what I like to call 'Hope's Turning Point' like OotP was for Harry, because last book she was integrating herself into Pure-blood society, learning how to walk and talk and this book she questioning if she should even be doing that. There was a lot of doubt this chapter, but it's important to later events.


	20. Crossed Blades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a surprising amount of interest in Dobby, but he's still pretty minor in this book, mostly because so much is going on.
> 
> This story is taking place during canon time, which is the 1990s, but for the most part we're probably almost completely disregarding canon, apart from the major plot-points, I think.
> 
> The person behind the Gates might come as a surprise to some, but not to all ;)

Sitia in Greece was a port city, in fact, that was what it was the most famous for, but if someone was looking hard enough, they could find the Marina. The funny thing was that no one ever seemed to look that far…almost like it was _enchanted._

All the pirate ports were like that, impossible to find unless you knew what you were looking for, but ordinary mortals could find their way in; Nomia had seen it more than once. The non-magical mortals were quite capable of being fine pirates, so long as they could work with their magical brethren, which was often.

The society of pirates wasn't nearly as backwards as some other magical communities, and if pirates were deceitful, they were pretty upfront about it, unless they were traitors, which was something else entirely.

That was the thing that Nomia liked the most about being a pirate, the brutal honesty.

She took a swig of her bottle of rum, watching the last of her crew filter off the ship to enjoy shore leave for a time. Nomia hadn't been back to Greece in some time, and she tended to stay out of Greek waters as much as possible that the incident with her sisters so many eons ago. She probably wouldn't have returned if it hadn't been an absolute necessity.

"The Demon of the Sea returns, I never thought I'd find you here."

Nomia smiled warmly. "Whoever came up with that name should be _shot."_

"They probably already have been," the voice responded before stepping into the light coming through the window at the back of her quarters and Nomia drank in the sight of her.

Brizo was the goddess of sailors and mariners and, often, pirates, and she certainly looked like she fit in with them, wearing a loose white shirt and beige pants, not a rip or a tear in sight, but stranger still was her hair the colour and quality of seaweed, framing a dark face and eyes the colour of the sea.

She was as stunning as the first time Nomia had seen her, but her visits were growing rarer and rarer and leaving Nomia more longing for her company, for the warmth of her skin, for the taste of her lips.

Brizo brought her hands up to cup Nomia's cheeks and Nomia's arms slid home around Brizo's waist. "I hear you had a visitor."

Nomia couldn't help but groan out loud, pulling her face out of Brizo's cool fingers. "I _knew_ it! There _was_ another reason for you showing up!"

Brizo's lips curled in amusement, her eyes twinkling. "My duties to Poseidon are important, Nomia."

The eye roll she got was the same expression that she gave whenever Brizo said that, which was often. Oh, Nomia knew about the importance of Poseidon's commands, though she was still bitter about him trying to seduce her when she was barely old enough to be considered fully grown.

" _So,"_ Brizo continued when Nomia conceded her point, "Elpis Slytherin, curious girl."

Nomia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What about her? Nelda's descendant who's apparently a novice at astral projection."

"We can't all be perfect." Brizo tilted her head slightly, her smile clear. "Though, if _I_ was the descendant of Thanatos, I'd be more interested in physical magic than astral projection."

That made Nomia freeze where she stood. She'd practically forgotten that the girl had mentioned being his descendant.

Children of the gods were not unknown to her, she had met Adrestia's, the goddess of balance, daughter once, a pacifist that was only willing to take up her spear for self-defence. The best forgers made claims at being legacies of Hephaestus, but one could never be sure if that was true.

"Thanatos," Nomia repeated the name, humming slightly in agreement. The god of death himself had seemed dubious at best, if she'd been perfectly honest. He had never seemed the type to have flings with mortals, he'd never seemed to have much interest in anything aside from collecting souls. "Huh, I forgot to consider the smell." It was subtle, unnoticeable to mortals, but a naiad knew the difference; graveyard dirt and poppies.

"And you've heard the rumours about the infamous Gates?"

Nomia gave her a bland stare. "I've been dealing with terrible sea monsters for weeks now that are making it impossible to dock in ports for supplies. I haven't had this much trouble since the Kraken Incident in 1914." She shuddered at the thought; there was a reason she kept away from Norway, once was enough, _thank you very much._ "Two ships have already gone down."

She didn't need to tell Brizo that, from how her jaw tightened, Nomia knew that Brizo had been aware the moment the ships had gone down; she was the patron of sailors, after all.

"She's going to need some help in swordsmanship," Brizo pointed out and Nomia snorted.

"And you think that _I'm_ a good choice?" Nomia stepped aside in order to grasp a bottle of rum, taking a long gulp. Her track record with teaching others was at an all-time low.

"The girl needs training, Nomia," Brizo mentioned lightly, "you know as well as I that she cannot wield that sword with any skill."

The sword had looked a bit cumbersome where it had rested on the hip of the astral projection, as though she wasn't quite yet used to its weight. Nobody who'd grown up with a sword would move with so much lack of certainty.

"Then perhaps she'd best learn from someone else."

That earned her a scowl from Brizo, a rarity, and well deserved as the goddess herself crossed her arms and gave her lover a severe stare. "Nelda's death was a tragedy and it had _nothing_ to do with her skill in the sword. She and Damian put their trust in the wrong person."

Nomia flinched.

"And her love of the sea lives on in her descendants, more so in Elpis than in the others…would you really deny a child the chance to learn from someone of great repute?"

"I am not of _great repute,"_ Nomia scoffed, though colour did appear high on her cheekbones and she conceded under Brizo's stare. "Besides, what young witch would want to learn from, let alone _be_ , a pirate in this age?"

That earned her an amused rumble low in Brizo's throat. "You could always ask Léon de Grammont. He might have a better idea than little Elpis."

Nomia blew out a loud breath. Léon was a self-contained explosion, wrathful and firm, a captain at only thirteen, barely thirteen at that. The death of his mother, the previous captain of _the Concorde_ , had hit him hard and he'd left the Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons, barely finishing his second year of schooling before taking his mother's place as captain. He was the youngest Nomia had seen in the most recent centuries, but he couldn't be better suited for anything less than a pirate.

Nomia wondered if the same could be true of Elpis Slytherin.

* * *

The city Sitia in Crete was absolutely stunning and Villa Avis, inherited from the Avis family that Salazar Slytherin had married into, had been reworked over the years but still managed to appear tastefully old-fashioned, just Hope's style.

It was on the edge of a ravine with a little stone path that led down to the beach below, the villa overlooked the endless sea and Hope had chosen a room that was facing it.

It was utterly _beautiful_ in Greece and so warm and _alive_. Hope didn't quite know how describe it, but it was making her have serious doubts about returning to Wales.

And Wales certainly didn't have stunning ruins like Greece did. Hope had already seen the Parthenon and the Acropolis in Athens, and she supposed it said something about how Thalia was willing to let her daughter and her niece gallivant around the Greek countryside while she, Galen, and Remus were all working. Remus reasoned that she got into more trouble at Hogwarts than she did on her own, besides, Mindy could keep an eye on them from a distance.

Hope and Aggie saw the Monolithos Castle, remains of a medieval castle built in the early fifteenth century by the Knights of Saint John, taking up the narrow stairs in order to reach the ruins of the castle before getting some to-go food as they walked through the streets.

"Oh, my _gods_ , this is _amazing_ ," Hope moaned, swallowing a bit of meat, making Aggie laugh as she dragged her over to a shaded spot at the edge of a fountain. Her stitches had been removed now, though the skin pulled a little and a dark red line bisecting her eyebrow to the edge of her eye remained. "What is it?"

"Lamb," Aggie managed out after a moment of getting her laughter out of the way, "with some decent spices."

"It's _so_ good," Hope drowned her exalts to the meat in a swallow of potatoes. "Why does everything taste _so good_ down here?"

"Probably because you've been eating English food all your life," Aggie grinned, eating her own roasted fish.

"I've been missing out," Hope bemoaned. "I need to get back into cooking."

"You can cook?" Aggie asked in surprise. All the times she'd spent at Potter Manor, she'd barely seen her in the kitchen. The only time she'd actually really seen her voluntarily cook had been when everyone helped out for Christmas lunch.

"Kind of had to in the Dursley household," Hope grimaced at the thought. "I'm the one that did a lot of the cooking, and if Petunia screwed something up, I got blamed for it."

Aggie twisted her fork in the pasta, considering her cousin, who was clearly more focused on her own food than anything else. "You don't ever talk about them," she mentioned. "The Dursleys."

"I don't like to think about them." Hope rolled her eyes. "They certainly wouldn't think about me."

Aggie's brow furrowed.

"I ran away," Hope explained, "but I checked the papers later and they didn't even report me missing. I've no idea how they explained that away…maybe they said I was too out of control and they had to put me into an orphanage, I don't know."

"Out of control?" Aggie asked in befuddlement. Hope didn't ever seem really like that. Aggie didn't think she'd even seen Hope mad, even though she did complain often of her fellow students.

Hope shrugged. "I wasn't very well-liked in Privet Drive. The Dursleys probably thought I wanted to steal their perfect life; they made it very clear that I wasn't wanted at all."

Aggie was glad, not for the first time, that even though her own father had flaked at being her and Galen's father, she still had her mother and her mother loved her more than enough.

"If they didn't like you then why did they end up with you?" she wondered aloud and Hope gave her a smirk and an air of one who knew they were about to cause drama.

"My parents left a will," Hope said, turning a bit more towards Aggie, "it named my godfather and then my godmother as my guardian if they died, with Peter Pettigrew and Remus being after that. But after they were killed, Sirius Black, my godfather, was arrested for murdering Peter Pettigrew and thirteen Muggles, and my godmother, Alice Longbottom, was tortured into insanity."

Aggie positively gaped. _"What?"_ She couldn't imagine having that many unfortunate events happening in such a short period of time.

"Apparently Remus didn't take me because the headmaster told him it was better to leave me at the Dursleys," Hope grumbled. "He's still trying to interfere with my life. He tried to tell me Remus was too dangerous to live with."

A scoff rose in Aggie's throat before she could stop it. "Remus? Dangerous? _Please!"_

"He's a very strange man," Hope agreed with a frown. "No idea what his deal is…but whatever, not my problem…we were talking about _the Siren_ , I think."

"Oh, yeah," Aggie belatedly remembered, "I did a research project on it once for school, it was active for less than ten years, I think, but somehow its one of the most famous pirate ships out there, like Edward Teach –you know, Blackbeard–'s _Queen Anne's Revenge_. No one really knew where it ended up, it kind of _vanished."_

Aggie and Hope threw the remains of their lunch into the trash before continuing on.

"Do you know anything about a pirate named…Nomia?" Hope asked her.

"I think I heard the name once or twice, why?"

"She's the captain of a ship called the _Golden Fleece_ , she's a naiad," Hope explained before turning bright pink, "I might've accidentally, um, astral projected onto her ship a little bit ago."

"You're _kidding!"_ Aggie was grinning at her misfortune. "Talk about not performing a spell right!"

"Oh, shut up," Hope grumbled. "It's not the first time I've messed up a spell."

"But have you messed up a spell that _bad?"_ Aggie sniggered and Hope turned red. "That's what I thought."

* * *

Hope always seemed to be up early enough to catch the sun rising over Sitia, but today, was different, today when she walked out onto the beach, there was someone already there waiting for her.

"Nice day for sword-fighting," Nomia commented, stepping over sand to approach Hope and Hope's brow furrowed. Thalia and Galen –Galen more so than Thalia in a manner that was almost annoying and Hope was suddenly fervently glad that she was an only child– had been bringing up her ability with the sword, or lack thereof.

"Sword-fighting?" Hope repeated dubiously. Nomia looked rather like she had the day Hope had astral projected, only more radiant, like flames burning bright. Her pale eyes were gleaming and the sun caught the silvery scar on her cheek.

"You're pathetic, El," Nomia said, still grinning and Hope wasn't sure how she felt about the nickname, but as far as nicknames went, it wasn't terrible, the insult was far worse and she bristled, "but the best way to learn is by defending yourself!"

Nomia lunged forward and Hope had to leap back in order to keep from getting a deep slice across her abdomen.

But that didn't save her from a kick to the stomach that sent her tumbling into the sand. "You're _crazy!"_ She rolled away from the naiad, pulling her broadsword free to hold it aloft in front of her.

Laughter echoed from Nomia's lips. "And you're weak, Hope Potter. You will not get so lucky with the next Keres!"

Nomia struck again and Hope blocked, their blades meeting in a clash of metal before Nomia forced Hope back again, throwing her to the sand with the blade-tip at Hope's throat.

"How d'you know my real name?" Hope asked cautiously, looking from the sword to the girl, breathless more from fear than anything else.

"Real name? That's might still be up for debate." Nomia smirked. "Your Earth Magick is old, El, but _mine_ is _older,_ you'll have to do better if you want to keep your head."

It wasn't a fair fight to begin with; Hope was severely outmatched. She was inferior to Nomia in every way.

" _ **Taxídi."**_ Hope's eyes blazed a luminescent green and the ground shifted under Nomia's feet, tripping her back and giving enough time for Hope to clamour to her feet, holding her sword so tight that her knuckles went white.

She liked to think that maybe Nomia wouldn't kill her, but she didn't know Nomia, not at all. Nomia was just some pirate that happened to have sailed with her ancestor at some point in the tenth century. Nomia's sword struck against Hope's and Hope stumbled back, ducking under a sharp horizontal slice only to be punched in her jaw and earn herself a thin cut over her thigh.

Hope hissed. Her jaw and stomach ached and her leg stung where blood appeared along the slice as Nomia pushed her back.

" _Again,"_ Nomia intoned, spreading her feet in the sand. It was the worst place to duel in Hope's not so modest opinion, the terrain not smooth in the slightest, but maybe that was the point.

Hope lunged forward and Nomia sidestepped, hitting the butt of the hilt against the small of Hope's back, crumpling her into the sand with a groan. "Come on, El, its like you're not even trying!"

"I _am!"_ Hope nearly growled as she stumbled to her feet once more, still holding the sword.

"No, you're _not,"_ Nomia responded, her voice maddeningly calm. "Really, it was a _miracle_ that Keres didn't kill you."

Hope really wanted to know where Nomia was getting her information from, because Hope hadn't told anyone outside of her family and friends about the real reason for the scar at her eye.

She released a breath through ground teeth, before approaching with a bit more caution this time around. The sounds of clanging metal filled the air, but the only thing that Hope could hear was the blood pulsing in her ears as Nomia kept pushing her back.

"You're good at dodging, I'll give you that," Nomia conceded with a smirk, before aiming a cut at her throat that Hope just missed with a yelp, falling back into the sand. "This time when I attack, block."

Hope was breathless and her muscles were starting to burn, just like the bruises were beginning to form over her skin to accompany the cuts, but she still pulled herself upright.

"High!"

Hope tightened her grip and raised it to block the strike above her head.

"Low!"

The next one came at her from the knees up.

"Middle!"

Hope forced the sword back as it aimed for her chest.

"Good, but that was too easy." Nomia's grin was positively feral. "This time it'll be faster and I won't be telling you what to expect."

Hope swallowed thickly.

" _Again!"_

Nomia was a harsh trainer, that much Hope learned by the time the sun had risen fully in the air, and her arms were feeling like they were very close to falling off when there was an arrow shot through the air, lodging in the sand just next to Nomia and both looked up to see Aggie standing on the stony ravine above, her bow already strung with a second arrow.

"You all right, Hope?" she asked loudly, eyes narrowed and focused on Nomia.

"I assume this is one of the cousins you spoke of," Nomia directed her words to Hope, though her eyes remained trained on Aggie.

"This is Aggie Blackwood," Hope agreed with a nod.

"Not a bad shot," Nomia called up to Aggie, "have you ever tried a Flintlock Pistol?"

"It's all right, Aggie," Hope added, "this is Nomia."

It was only then that Aggie relaxed her stance and cut across to the stone steps to flounce her way out onto the sand to come to Hope's side, eyes cataloguing her cousin's injuries. "You all right?"

Hope considered herself with an air of exasperation. "I'll live," she decided.

"Your cousin is definitely more in shape than you are," Nomia snorted.

"Familial hazard," Aggie informed her coolly, "my brother and I were both trained in the bow and sword when we were younger…and you know Galen would teach you how to use a sword, him and Mum would be happy to." She'd turned to direct her last words to Hope and Hope shrugged.

"She was kind of here when I came out in the morning." Hope smiled sheepishly, stabbing the sword into the sand, looking to the naiad.

"Well, someone's got to show you how it's done," Nomia informed her, unimpressed as she sheathed her sword in the sword belt across her chest. "I'll be back in a few hours, then we'll begin again."

"Don't you have a ship to captain?" Hope asked archly.

Nomia spared her a wink before walking off to dive into the sea, disappearing under the rolling surf.

"She is _strange,"_ Aggie decided before looking at Hope. "It looks like she used you as a knife sharpener."

Hope grimaced. She had a lot of little cuts from being too slow, but they didn't really compare to the bruises. "I need a nice long shower," she moaned. "I don't think I like pirating as much as I used to."

Aggie snorted. " _Liar,"_ she refuted and Hope grinned around the pain.

* * *

"You're _crazy_ , have I mentioned how _crazy_ you are?"

Hope's compact was very small and only one way so Mindy had set up two larger mirrors mounted on stands at the vanity so Hope could talk to both of her friends at the same time without them being in the same room.

"You might've mentioned it once or twice," Hope said wryly, holding at ice pack to the top of her head over a knot that she'd gotten from an aggressive bump from the butt of Nomia's hilt colliding with her head.

"You know, maybe you might be in need of some self-preservation!" Hermione continued to rant. "You look like a _cutting board!"_

A grimace warped Hope's face, but Hermione wasn't necessarily wrong. It had been going on for days now, but she thought she was both getting better at using the sword and healing spells, which was good, or Hope would've had a bit more scars to deal with than just the one on her eye.

"This is probably way Mum and Nana had a disagreement about Storia and I learning how to use the spear," Daphne agreed sagely, "but Mum's a bit more of a pacifist."

Hope arched an eyebrow.

Daphne rubbed the back of her head, her skin tanned from the sun. "The Anastas family has ties to the goddess of balance, Adrestia."

" _Really?"_ Hope and Hermione said in two very different tones of voice. Daphne had told Hope that her family had godly blood, but she'd never said who, and now it kind of made sense.

"Am I the only normal person in this group?" Hermione demanded. "Not a drop of godly blood or anything!"

"Well, to be fair, it kind of sucks right now to be part god," Daphne admitted.

"And who the Hades told _you_ you were _normal?"_ Hope laughed. "You're as bad as we are without the whole monsters coming after you thing."

"I actually haven't seen a lot of monsters lately," Daphne pointed out to Hope. "I mean, we had a hydra up here a few days ago, but that was it, and that was when Nana was off hiking."

"Maybe they like it when we're on our own, easier to kill, you know," Hope agreed.

"How can you two joke about something like this?" Hermione moaned into her hands.

"You either get jokes or we start having panic attacks every second of the day, your pick," Daphne offered before returning her attention to Hope. "What about your aunt and cousins? Have they seen any lately?"

"There was a nest of chimeras they found a day ago." Hope tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But apart from that it's been quiet…maybe the monsters wanted to get as far away from Greece and enjoy their freedom somewhere else."

"Good riddance," Daphne grumbled, "have either of you done Snape's homework yet?"

"Yes," Hermione sniffed.

" _No,"_ Hope groaned, rubbing at her eyes. "But I definitely _should_ , waiting until the last minute never seems to work out for me."

"You just like to do things little by little," Daphne corrected, "what's the use in spreading it out when you can do it all at once?"

"That's utter madness," Hope declared, her nose high in the air.

"Says the person that still hasn't done it," Hermione pointed out and Hope ignored her.

"I'm putting it off out of _spite!"_

"That'll win you points with Snape," Daphne sniggered.

* * *

Remus was in his element teaching young hopefuls, or, in this case, Aurors young and old. It was really something else to have his employer be fully aware of his lycanthropy and to not be bothered by the fact; it was something else to have other werewolves in his class who had prospects other than unemployment.

"Galen seems to be enjoying your class," Thalia laughed as they walked together to the Aurors Department where her office was located and the large seminar room could be found at the end of the hall. "Of course, he thinks you should include a bit more of Greek Dark Creatures in the class."

"Yes, I think he brought that up once or twice," Remus chuckled, taking a sip of his tea in a thermos that Mindy had pressed into his hands that morning. "I'm going for a bit of a broader view, maybe next time."

"The Director is pleased," Thalia added, "she wanted to know where I dug you up and if you can stay on."

Remus smiled broadly at that. It was strange to think that at one time he'd been so wary about Hope's association with Thalia, and now they were actually friends. "I'm grateful very much so, but a ten year old witch wants me to tutor her so she can skip a year at Hogwarts."

Thalia arched an eyebrow. "Related to Hermione or Daphne, I assume?"

Thalia had never met the pair that was Hope's closest friends, but Aggie had met them once, however briefly, and she seemed to like them well enough.

"Daphne, actually," Remus admitted with a laugh. "Her little sister, Astoria, has apparently been _badgering_ her parents about it, seeing as Daphne's going to be graduating two years early. Of course, she's not mad enough to do two years in one go." Remus grimaced. _Never again,_ he thought tiredly. _Once was enough, thank you very much._

"Well, if you ever want the job, it's yours," Thalia informed him, her eyes glittering as she parted from him as they'd made it to the Auror Office. "Even if it's just for the summer."

And Remus didn't think he would ever quite be able to forget Thalia's kindness. She was certainly nothing like James, Sirius, or Peter, and nothing like Lily; she was something different, and there was nothing bad about that.

The door shut behind her and he continued on down the hall, pushing the swinging door open with his elbow, keeping one hand on his thermos and one on his cane at his side as he stepped inside. There were a good number of Aurors within the walls, though not quite all of them. Remus could see Galen laughing with his friends, one of them trying to convince Galen to do his paperwork for him.

Several others called out a good morning to him as he ambled down the steps to the desk, setting down his thermos on the table and his bag thick with papers and books on the chair as he waited for the last of them to filter in.

"All right," he said loudly, "settle down, today we'll be going over the Rougarou. Now, some of you may not be familiar with this creature as it has a tendency to stick to swampy areas, but you may encounter them at some point in your career…"

* * *

It was about knowing where your feet were and knowing where your sword was, and that had been a bit of the problem for Hope when she'd first started training with Nomia, but now, after a few weeks of early morning and late night swordsmanship lessons, Hope was getting a bit better at it.

Nomia was clearly still far superior to her, though, and Hope doubted she was ever going to measure up.

That despondent thinking was the thing that cost her, and Hope got a long slice down the outer part of her arm for her troubles. A few weeks ago she would have yelped in pain, maybe dropped her sword too, but Hope was starting to develop a high pain tolerance, and it was _entirely Nomia's fault_.

"Stop doubting yourself!" Nomia barked and Hope gritted her teeth together, her arm staining red with blood.

"I'm not," she insisted through her teeth.

"Yes, _you are_." Nomia pressed her back, her eyes flat as she took in Hope, pleased how she'd automatically centred herself; Nomia was rubbing off on her, in all the wrong ways, as Mindy liked to say. Mindy was rather disapproving of Hope's lessons with Nomia, as she had been when Hope had stumbled back up to the villa with Aggie keeping her from falling back on her ass with a rather amused expression. She thought that Hope learning the art of the sword was distinctly unlady-like and thought Hope's attention would be better served elsewhere, like practicing her violin or Greek or reading up on the ancient laws of the Wizengamot, but Hope practiced her violin a little every day and read the books and practiced her Greek as Mindy wished. She didn't find any of it nearly as interesting as Nomia and her lessons; maybe that was what Mindy feared, that she'd end up less like the proper heiress she should've been.

"Fight like you're afraid to die!"

Hope made an uncomfortable noise in the back of her throat. "I'm _always_ afraid to die with you around," she grumbled and Nomia's laugh belled out through the air.

"Ah, _there's_ that fire of yours!" Nomia's grin was wide and she stabbed her sword forward as Hope slashed the sword back in response.

Hope didn't think she'd ever met someone who enjoyed the sword as much as Nomia did, but she'd been at it for a couple hundred years. The sun drifted higher into the air as sand was kicked up and water sloshed around their feet, following their quick movements. But there was definitely something refreshing about Nomia, like being around Hermione and Daphne when it was just the three of them, it was definitely freeing in a way.

Still, a moment later, Hope found herself disarmed with one blade aimed at the front of her throat and the other held horizontally behind her neck.

"An improvement," Nomia informed her wryly.

"I have a good teacher," Hope gasped before the sword was returned to her grip.

That earned her a smile. "Lunch in the Marina?" Nomia suggested.

"I have no idea what that is." Hope was so tired that she would gladly sleep buffeted by the waves even if there was a chance of her drowning, just because she knew the water would feel amazing.

"I'll show you," Nomia laughed easily. "I'll give you two hours before I pop back in on you." And with that she dove off into the surf, leaving Hope behind, shaking her head in bemusement.

* * *

"She just lets you borrow her potions room to experiment?" Ginny was dubious at best. She'd asked about going with Fred and George to Potter Manor, and her mother had been rather reluctant about it, the twins weren't quite sure why, but they'd checked if it was okay and Hope didn't have a problem with it.

Potter Manor was so much larger than the Burrow, but it wasn't entirely what she was expecting. She would've thought it would have a sort of cold quality to it, being a manor. Ginny remembered her dad talking about visiting Malfoy Manor once –and hating every second of it– and how he'd described it had been like that, but Potter Manor wasn't, not really. It was old and eerie and quiet, of course, but it was a good bit warmer. There were books strewn about the table in the sitting room, and the displayed pictures showed a young girl with several people Ginny wasn't familiar with, but the girl was smiling, her scar visible in some and not in others.

It was rather surreal to think that the girl Ginny had grown up hearing stories about was actually in Fred and George's year and friends with them. Then there'd been the rumours flying around about her being kidnapped only for her to give a statement herself some months later that she actually ran away from the Muggles she'd been living with. Ginny couldn't even imagine running away from the Burrow, but she'd never been raised by Muggles.

"Well, yeah, she's pretty fine with it," Fred snorted.

"But Mum and Dad think you're over here taking care of plants," Ginny pointed out.

George winked and realization dawned on Ginny's face.

"She must really like you."

"It must be the Weasley charm," George took a dramatic stance and Ginny burst into giggles.

They'd left her on her own after that, rushing off to check on a potion or two and Ginny had looked around the sitting room before standing to wander about aimlessly, her curiosity getting the best of her. There was a great set of mahogany doors and Ginny pushed through them to see the room beyond.

Ginny had never been a bookish sort of girl, she'd rather be out running around in the sun, stealing her brothers' brooms in the dead of night. She liked the magic of doing things herself than reading about them.

That being said, even she couldn't deny how impressive the library was with towering shelves of books upon books, there were even steps leading up to a second landing.

Ginny wondered if the Hogwarts library looked like this too.

She was admiring the books when she heard the door open and the sound of footsteps.

"Sorry about running off, George," she said, guessing the twin before turning around and pausing in her shock.

The person who had walked through the doors was definitely not George.

Hope Potter blinked in surprise, taking in the sight of Ginny and Ginny's face instantly burned in embarrassment at being caught in the library that she'd heard Hope telling her dad that the twins probably shouldn't get into.

Her hair was lighter than that time she had come by the Burrow, a sort of bronze colour, but her eyes were the same green. The lightning bolt scar on her brow was clear, though not as prominent as the new scar sliced sideways through her left eye. And then Ginny's eyes drifted down to the sword at her side.

" _Oh,"_ Ginny said weakly, "h-hi."

"Hi," Hope said, considering her, "Ginny, right? Fred and George's sister?"

"Um, yes," Ginny's words fumbled over her tongue. "I'm sorry, I-I know you didn't want people in your library, and I—"

"Its fine," Hope laughed. "It's a big house, everyone gets curious. I don't mind people in the library, there's just…" Hope shifted slightly on her feet, looking almost uncomfortable. "There's some _questionable_ topics that some people aren't a fan of." Her words came out just between wry and bitter.

" _Oh,"_ Ginny's surprise echoed and the silence was stilted.

"Looking forward to going to Hogwarts?" Hope asked her politely, crossing the hardwood floor to seat herself on the edge of the long couch that appeared to be part of a cosy reading area, and Ginny oscillated on her feet, slightly conflicted about following Hope before her will won out and Ginny trailed after her steps to fall into the large armchair to Hope's left.

"Yeah," Ginny said quickly, her cheeks flushing with colour once more. She was all kinds of nervous, but it was helpful how at ease Hope was. _Why wouldn't she be at ease?_ Ginny berated herself. _It was_ her _house!_

"Hoping to be in Gryffindor like the rest of the family?" Hope guessed, crossing her legs.

Ginny chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Were your parents in Slytherin too?" she asked instead.

A laugh parted from Hope's lips once more. "Oh, _no_ , Mum and Dad were Gryffindors. Came as a big surprise to everyone when I got sorted into Slytherin instead." Hope rolled her eyes looking vaguely annoyed. "I never seem to turn out the way people wish I had."

"What's it like?" Ginny asked curiously, noticing how Hope's attention had drifted off slightly. "Being in Slytherin, I mean."

"Most of the House hates me and I spelled my curtains against curses," Hope informed her dryly. "Marcus Flint likes to throw insults at me and Draco Malfoy doesn't like that his Mum actually _likes_ me…but I've got Daphne with me at night and Hermione during the day, and my other friends."

Ginny's face fell slightly. "So Slytherin's as bad as Mum says it is."

"Every house is going to have idiots," Hope rolled her eyes for good measure, lips curling in disdain. "Gryffindor has them, Ravenclaw has them, Hufflepuff has them, and so does Slytherin…some of the Ravenclaws were pretty bad last term, too, they probably didn't like my snake hex," Hope conceded wistfully.

Ginny swallowed her smile. "Were Fred and George idiots?" She would've asked about Ron or Percy, but it didn't seem like Hope knew them very well.

Hope thought about how the pair had hissed at the new Slytherin first years during the sorting. "Sometimes," she decided before checking her watch, frowning at the time. "I need to get back, Nomia's expecting me for lunch…"

She stood to return to the shelves and pull a book loose, extending it to Ginny and Ginny took it, looking at the title.

" _The Early Life of the Hogwarts Founders_?" she read out loud, her brow furrowing.

"You probably already know all the qualities for each house," Hope pointed out, "but if you're still interested in the house you might end up in, this book's a good read."

"Oh, thanks," Ginny said quickly and the smile Hope spared her made her flush. She looked down at the book in her hands once more and when she looked up Hope had gone, the doors swinging after her, leaving Ginny to consider her options thoughtfully and open the book and begin to read.

* * *

"Ready to be impressed?"

Hope arched an eyebrow at Nomia's grin as they walked through the streets of Sitia. "I'm guessing there's a _reason_ we're walking towards the suspiciously foggy dead end?"

Of course, Hope couldn't very well see that that there was a dead end, there was too much fog, but the signs had made it rather plain.

"Ah, that's just part of its _charm,"_ Nomia assured her airily. "Too much magic in one place, I suspect is how all the fog came about, before they actually started using it. It deters mortals from approaching."

That was _interesting._ Obviously, Nomia was more prone to lump Muggles and magical folk together seeing as she was a naiad who had been alive for eons, but it was interesting how the area in front of them wasn't aimed at keeping Muggles from noticing it, like Diagon Alley was. Hope reached out a hand in curiosity to touch the fog in front of her, so thick that it almost looked like a tangible wall of fog. It tingled her skin akin to a burning sensation and Hope jerked her hand back.

Nomia laughed. "Now everyone thinks it's a kind of acid fog attached to an old curse when the street was first built, it puts anyone off about getting too close. It gets worse the deeper in you go."

" _Great."_ The single word dripped with her sardonic tone of voice and that earned her another laugh.

"It's a great deterrent, that's true," Nomia agreed, "but it's not as bad as you think…don't tell me you're _scared?"_ The feral grin soured Hope's expression.

"I think _apprehensive_ is a better word," Hope grumbled under her breath before stepping face first into the fog.

The burning sensation was uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as finding herself staring at a mass of thick fog from all sides, and it only grew worse as they walked further in, the burning becoming hotter until the fog thinned and Hope found herself standing on a cobbled street with Nomia at her side.

Hope remembered the first time she'd gone to Diagon Alley, the wonder she'd felt as she stood in the streets, looking out at the shops for potion ingredients, and wands, and parchment.

The Marina was definitely a bit rowdier than Diagon Alley.

Her eyebrows arched high on her forehead as a man was thrown through the open doors of what could've only been a pub with raucous laughter following him out. It was…she didn't know quite how to describe it. There was an assortment of people moving about the street, some large and burly, some slim and dainty, some dressed like they'd walked out of the seventeenth century, some like they'd been out to a Muggle pub. But all were wearing swords or other weapons on their person; one large man had a broad-axe strapped to his back and Hope thought it best not to cross him.

"What do you think?" Nomia's voice came from beside her and Hope realized she'd been staring silently for an awful long time.

"Is this…is this a _pirate port?"_ Hope asked finally, her eyes wide as she took it all in.

"It is indeed!" Nomia's chuckle echoed deep in her throat as she threw an arm around Hope's shoulders. "Come along, I'll show you the places the matter the most!"

And with that said, she dragged Hope forward and Hope found herself impressed by the sheer amount of tattoos across skin that she could see. One woman was wearing an almost backless fighting dress with a winding blue Chinese dragon across her shoulder blades and down her spine. Another man had a skeletal skull tattooed over his face in a way that gave Hope the feeling that she was looking at the real thing and not a tattoo. She could also see masses of scars; someone was walking around with a stump for a leg, another had thick burn tissue across her arm.

The Marina was so… _different._ She could see some people walking around with bottled hexes and a stall was selling them not too far away; she'd never seen hexes bottled before.

"Wands get to be a bit cumbersome in battle," Nomia mentioned, noticing Hope's attention. "Those that can't use wandless magic or magic at all prefer bottled hexes, they can do some serious damage."

"Really?" Hope asked impressed, her eyes fixed on the station as they walked past, the stoppered bottles full of flashes of colour, of red and blues and greens. "Is that the Killing Curse?"

"Well, we _are_ pirates, love, we tend to kill each other on a daily basis," Nomia snorted. "The _Avada Kedavra_ bottle isn't the most popular because it generally only affects one person and they can avoid it if they duck out of the way."

Hope twisted her fingers together, swallowing thickly. Of course she knew that pirates killed each other, it wasn't like it was something that had escaped her notice, but Hope had killed someone before. Quirinus Quirrell had crumpled to ash after coming into contact with her skin.

"Do you…not like the _Avada Kedavra?"_ Nomia inquired and Hope gave her a strange look. Nomia had said her name once but Hope didn't think to consider that she didn't actually know the story behind 'Hope Potter'.

"My, um, my parents were killed with it when I was a baby." She didn't bother with explaining about Voldemort, she didn't think it was really necessary, after all, she'd told Nomia that her rather distant cousin had killed her parents when she was young, why bother going more in depth.

Nomia's eyes narrowed and then they softened in understanding. "I see," was all she said before steering her away from stall, and that in itself made Hope's heart seize up just a little, because Nomia didn't probe for the details surrounding her parents' deaths and her subsequent fame like so many others and she didn't offer hollow condolences. Nomia accepted it as a face and moved on.

"That there is the Jolly Roger, it's a pub," Nomia explained as they walked past the building that man had just been thrown out of, "but you won't get carded in the Marina, because if you're old enough to kill, you're old enough to drink, _trust me."_

That made Hope laugh. Remus had made much a big deal about her keeping away from alcohol, saying something about her father not being able to hold his liquor very well, and here was Nomia going in the completely opposite direction.

"And then over there's the forge, that's where you'll get your first sword."

"But I already have one," Hope interrupted Nomia's narrating to point out, gesturing to the broadsword at her side.

The expression Nomia turned towards Hope was one a mother might give their child who wasn't fully grasping the situation at hand. "You _have_ a sword," Nomia agreed, "but it is not _yours._ It might suit you for now, but the only one that will suit you best is one that is made for you. Nelda commissioned two curved ones with serpentine hilts, Goblin-made, but I suspect Aegean Iron better suits you."

"Better suits monsters," Hope muttered under her breath.

"Monsters," Nomia repeated with a growl in her throat. "Sea monsters are worse, making it difficult to be out in open sea."

"Then why go out?" Hope asked curiously.

Nomia spared her a wink. "That's the thrill of it, isn't it? The unknown, the possibility of danger and death?"

She turned back before Hope could offer a response to that, though, Hope wasn't entirely sure what it would've been. She'd always loved to read about adventures, but her last one in the chamber under the trapdoor on the third floor might've put her a bit off them, to be perfectly honest.

"There's where we all dock our ships," Nomia pointed at the space between two buildings, allowing Hope to look out on the gleaming sea's edge, seeing several different ships there, one that was a brig ship, another that was frigate, and one that she thought might've been a galleon, but the others weren't familiar to her. "Oh, look, looks like _the Concorde_ is ashore."

" _The Concorde?"_ Hope inquired, turning back to her companion. "Is that important?"

"Not really," Nomia snorted. "She's a French ship, that brig at the end." She pointed to the ship in question. "She was captained by Médée de Grammont until she died a few months ago, then her son Léon dropped out of Beauxbatons at barely thirteen to take her place."

"Thirteen?" Green eyes widened. "That young?"

"He's quite capable," Nomia sounded vaguely miffed. "I trained him myself. He's better than you, at any rate."

"Everyone's better than me, it's not _that_ impressive." Hope rolled her eyes and Nomia's gleamed with approval.

"So, the tavern is Cross-Bones, the food's not the greatest, but it's not the worst which is pretty true for all the pirate ports—" Nomia was just starting to explain when they both heard the sounds of yells and screams.

The naiad took off in the direction of the noise, with her companion following quickly on her heels. You would've thought that Hope would've learned by now not to run towards danger, unfortunately the answer was: evidently _not_.

Hope saw the monster before she saw anything else, and it made her stop and stare. Granted, she hadn't really seen any other monsters barring the Keres that had come onto the Potter Lands, and seeing another very different one out in the open was new for her. She knew Thalia and Galen had dealt with more while working as Aurors, but the monsters had seemed to have been fairly quiet as of late. You wouldn't have even thought there was a breach in the Gates of Tartarus.

Whatever it was, Hope had never seen the likes of it in any of the Greek myths she'd read about. It was a large serpent of some sort with two sharp horns on its equally large head and twined in the grasp of its body was what must've been a fellow pirate, but it appeared crushed beyond repair. Another lay not too far away with fang marks on her neck that were tinged greenish-blue.

Hope swallowed her horror.

She'd never seen a dead body before, not like that, not like Quirrell's had been. Hope had managed to escape the Keres that it had never really dawned on her that she could've died. Of course, she'd been afraid, _terrified_ even, but Hope hadn't considered death.

There was a boy at the front but she couldn't see much of him, just hearing his yell for his comrades to fire and the air was filled with the sounds of musket-balls being fired through the air, but the snake ended up faring far better than them, and it reared its head back and Hope's legs spurred to action.

"Stop!" she yelled, but it came out as a strangled hiss and the snake and the pirates in the square both turned to look at her incredulously.

" _A human that speaks our tongue_ ," the serpent responded, its words silky and dripping with poison as Hope found herself standing in front of it, one hand tight on the hilt of her sword. _"I'm impressed. Would you like to be my next prey?"_

" _No, thanks,"_ Hope replied in the same tongue. _"You're one of the monsters that came through the Gates, aren't you?"_

" _I am a Cerastes,"_ the snake sneered, _"I am no common monster."_

" _You'll all still die the same,"_ Hope countered, which sounded a lot better in her head and probably would've been more impressive if anyone except the snake could hear her ducking as the snake lashed its head out to strike and she swung the sword with a shaking hand through the fleshly part of the snake's neck right under its head.

Hope was stunned more than anything that it didn't fade into darkness with a scream like the Keres had, but this one didn't. The Cerastes' head came clean off to rest at her feet, the rest of it jerking around as it sprayed blood before falling limply to the ground.

"And who're you supposed to be?"

Hope blinked, turning her head to see the boy who had barking commands earlier, his accent thick. His dark skin gleamed, eyes a bright hazel. He couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen wearing a dark vest over a royal blue shirt with loose and billowing sleeves. The sword belt that stretched from his shoulder to his opposite hip held his own sword and a holster kept a flintlock at his left leg.

"H-Elpis Slytherin," Hope said, almost slipping up and saying her real name.

"English," the boy gave a derisive sneer, "that explains it. You took your time."

"You're _welcome_ , French Bastard," Hope bristled, unable to stop the insult from parting her lips.

"I'm Léon de Grammont, captain of _the Concorde,"_ the boy said coolly, crossing his arms and treating her with disdain. "Whose ship are you with, English Bitch?"

"Mine." Nomia stepped forward and Hope was surprised when the boy actually spared the naiad a smile. "If that's all, I think we should take care of this." She made a loose gesture towards the snake remnants and the pair of bodies.

The pair were from different ships but Hope felt better when a sheet was thrown over each so she wouldn't have to look at them, her stomach roiling.

"He must like you," Nomia mentioned to Hope when the two misfortunate pirates were taken away on stretchers to be given a pirate's funeral and the crowd that had gathered dispersed. "Léon isn't usually quite so hostile."

"Lucky me," Hope drawled out, watching the French pirate stalk away.

"That nickname will probably stick, though," Nomia informed her regretfully and Hope looked down, still caught up in the moment, of the dead serpentine monster before her, of the bodies that had been taken away. "You all right? You look a bit pale."

"Do I?" Hope asked vaguely.

"Never seen a dead body before?" Nomia surmised.

"Not really."

"Could be worse," Nomia assured her, "it could be you they're taking away under a sheet." And with that said, she punched Hope in the shoulder.

Hope knew it was going to bruise. _"Ow!"_ She complained, rubbing at the spot. "What was that for?"

"You really do have no self-preservation." Nomia was half in awe and half annoyed. "That thing could've taken your head clean off and I'm not satisfied with your swordsmanship."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Hope responded.

"It's all you're going to get from me, El." Nomia's lips twisted into a smirk. "Now let's get lunch…should probably skin that carcass, though, it's going to smell."

Hope wished she could be as unfazed as Nomia, but she couldn't. So she hid her still shaking hands in her pockets so that Nomia wouldn't see.

* * *

"You've been very quiet today."

Hope and Remus were sitting with their chairs out on the lawn, tilting their heads back to look on the stars in the clear sky above them, and Hope had been quiet after returning to the villa after lunch with Nomia.

"It's nothing," Hope forced her jaw to work. "A monster showed up while I was out with Nomia today."

"Ah." Remus had never met the elusive naiad, but knew enough to know that she utterly exhausted Hope and Mindy didn't approve of her. His eyes shone with concern despite the darkness. "Are you all right?"

"I got lucky, two pirates didn't." The words came off her mouth like ash and Hope drew her legs up to her chest. "I've never seen dead bodies before and…Nomia just shook it off and I was standing there trying not to have a breakdown and—!"

" _Hope."_

The words trailed off as Remus took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Monsters are frightening, it's okay to get scared and to freak out."

"But…everyone else seemed _fine,"_ Hope said a bit weakly.

"They've all probably seen worse, they're pirates," Remus pointed out, "you're just learning from a pirate, its different…honestly I don't think I'd like you to be _used_ to seeing dead bodies, and I know your parents wouldn't either."

The other pirates in the tavern had been pretty impressed with what she'd done, but all Hope had done was speak Parseltongue and cut off its head while avoiding its fangs. It didn't sound all that impressive in retrospect, especially since Hope had only spoken the snake language that Salazar was famous for once before and by complete accident and had to have it explained to her by Thanatos himself.

"She says I have no self-preservation," Hope added.

"Well, I don't think she's _wrong_ about that," Remus chuckled to himself and Hope turned pink.

"Shouldn't you be telling me to avoid pirates and monsters and all that?" Hope inquired, remembering the conversation they'd had when she'd come back from the hospital.

"I can't make your choices for you," Remus heaved a heavy sigh, tilting his head back to look at the stars once more. "And you seem to actually enjoy being around this 'Nomia', despite everything."

"She's kind of rude," Hope laughed, "I think that's why Mindy doesn't like her."

"And why do you like her?" His eyes glinted with his smile.

"She…I guess because she doesn't go easy on me, she doesn't know who I am and where I come from based on a scar, she doesn't probe…she isn't—"

"Everyone in England?" Remus filled in for her.

"I was going to say Hogwarts," Hope mumbled, "and that's in _Scotland."_

"Don't be cheeky, it doesn't suit you."

"Oh, it _absolutely_ suits me!" Hope looked positively outraged at the thought. "Coming from you, Remus? The person who cheeks _everyone?"_

Remus reached over to ruffle her hair, hanging loose around her head for once and she swatted at his hand and he couldn't help but think of Hope's parents. They might've been firmer with her, reproaching her for doing certain things, but Remus wasn't Lily and he certainly wasn't James. The best he could do was try to make sure that Hope was hurt as little as possible in the life that she had chosen.

He didn't know what would happen with the Gates of Tartarus, as it was, he could barely understand it, he didn't know if Hope was going to aspire to be a pirate as Nelda had once been and as Nomia still was. He didn't know any of that.

What he knew was that Hope was very headstrong about what she believed in –he, wisely, decided not to have another debate about Earth Magick after how the last one had ended– and that she regularly sought out Thalia and Galen now to show them how much better she was getting with her sword. Remus wasn't sure he'd seen her smile quite so much, but she had a right to be proud of a skill she'd been working hard at, even if it was one she wouldn't be able to show off at school, but Hope had never been the type to show off at Hogwarts.

"Your birthday is in exactly…" Remus checked his watch. "Ten minutes, excited?"

"You're kidding, right?" Hope grinned. "Daphne's been the _worst_ since her birthday about me being the youngest, and, Remus, being the youngest is _terrible."_

"You're _still_ going to be the youngest," Remus couldn't help but point out and Hope flicked a finger in his direction.

"But we'll all be the same age until September," Hope nearly whined. Then Hermione's thirteenth birthday would swing around and Hope and the girls would find them back at school once more.

 _Ugh. School._ Hope hadn't enjoyed Hogwarts last term, and she definitely doubted that she was going to like it this term. Mostly she blamed Snape and the other Slytherins, some of the Ravenclaws too, and Dumbledore, definitely Dumbledore. She gave a grimace thinking about the headmaster that was missed in the darkness.

"Looking forward to the part tomorrow, at least?" Remus probed.

"Well, _yeah,"_ Hope said automatically, "I haven't seen Daphne or Hermione hardly at _all_ since the summer holiday started!"

Hermione had spent the past two weeks with her parents in Spain, lamenting that she wouldn't get to spend time with Hope and Daphne who were probably together since they were vacationing in the same country. Hope and Daphne found that rather funny, since neither of them had seen the other in Greece, probably because they were on opposite sides and doing things separately.

"However did you survive?"

Hope rolled her eyes, shaking her head and she shoved his shoulder slightly.

"Be kind to your elders, Hope."

"Oh, _please,"_ Hope laughed, "there's nothing about you that's _elderly!"_

The stars on Remus' watch lit up suddenly and they were both momentarily distracted. "Happy birthday, Hope."

Twelve at last, and Hope didn't really feel all that different. Maybe (hopefully) she'd grow a bit taller this year. Maybe she'd actually do more than scrape by in potions. Maybe Nomia would tell her a few stories about Nelda.

Maybe nothing out of the ordinary would happen at Hogwarts this year, because, Hades knows, Quirrell and Voldemort's ploy for immortality had put her rather off.

"Goodnight, Remus," Hope said finally, pulling herself tiredly out of the chair to squeeze his hand, "I'm heading up to bed."

"Goodnight," he called after her as she traipsed back into the villa and up the stairs to her room, ready to grab her clothes and collapse onto the bed until late the next morning, since Nomia was actually letting her sleep in on her birthday, the only problem was that when she switched on the light, she found someone else sitting on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, there was a lot going on in this chapter! It was mostly Hope-Nomia-centric, but their relationship is important to the plot (and might be slightly based on Diana and Antiope from Wonder Woman ;)), besides, I barely see my friends during the summer break, unless we're vacationing together. Hope's having a little trouble shaking off dead bodies, but that's expected.
> 
> Léon has finally made an appearance! He'll grow on you, we know next to nothing about him right now.


	21. Turmoils at Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Léon finally made it into the fic! He and Nomia both have been in the works for awhile and you'll definitely see more of him later.
> 
> A few people enjoyed the realism of Hope's response to the dead bodies and her skill at the sword, which is good because I figure that's how I'd be with either if I'd never seen or done anything like that before.

The door shut behind Hope and she stared at the creature sitting on her bed. Hope had seen house-elves before, after all, Hope saw Mindy every day, but Mindy was well cared for. She always wore a nice tunic with the Potter family crest on it, and this house-elf with its large green eyes wore what appeared to be a pillowcase. Hope thought it looked familiar, but she wasn't quite sure from where; Hope didn't see that many house-elves to start with.

Hope reached for the sword at her hip, her heart thudding in surprise. "Who're you?" she demanded in suspicion.

"Hope Potter!" the house-elf exalted, eyes wide and in awe of her, something that couldn't help but make Hope feel uncomfortable. He –she was guessing by voice alone at this point– stood, practically vibrating in excitement. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, miss…such an  _honour_  it is…I is Dobby, Dobby the house-elf."

"That doesn't really explain what you're doing in my house," Hope said, speaking the words carefully. Mindy hadn't come running yet, which meant she might not've noticed the house-elf's arrival, which Hope didn't really think was a good thing because Mindy was generally very good about that, almost to the point of being over-protective.

Dobby bobbed his head up and his ears flopping with the movement, his eyes showing the concern that echoed with his wringing hands. "Dobby is here to…to warn you, Hope Potter!"

"Warn me?" Hope asked dubiously, thinking of the dreams dominated by ships caught in sea storms and a burning pain at her stomach.

Dobby nodded seriously still gazing at her in an expression akin of worship and Hope twitched. "Dobby heard tell," the house-elf spoke in a reverent whisper, "that Hope Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago, and that Hope Potter escaped yet again."

Hope's brow furrowed slightly, but people talked and there were a lot of people in Hogwarts. "Yes," she said finally.

Dobby made a shuddering sort of sound. "Ah, miss, Hope Potter is  _valiant and bold!_  She has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Hope Potter, to  _warn_  her, even if he does have to shut his ears in the over door later…"

Hope's eyebrows arched high at that offhanded comment, but she thought it best not to interrupt.

"Hope Potter must not go back to Hogwarts," Dobby stressed.

"Not go back?" Hope repeated, surprise tainting her words. "Why not?"

Dobby shook so much that it looked like he was vibrating in place. "Because, miss! There is a plot! A plot to make most  _terrible_  things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year! Dobby has known about it for months, miss. Hope Potter must not put herself in peril. She is  _too_  important!"

It was a clear overestimation, but Hope very much doubted that she'd be able to counter his beliefs with the obvious hero-worship he had. Just someone else that had a rather romanticized view of her.

"Terrible things? What terrible things?"

That was clearly the wrong thing to say, because Dobby made a harsh strangling sound before looking for the nearest blunt object, which happened to be the bed post, and began beating his head against it.

Hope was horrifically mesmerized for two seconds before she wrenched the house-elf back.

"Hey, stop that!" she barked and his movements abruptly stilled. "Back in June it was Voldemort—" he gave a squeaking sound at the name that Hope ignored. "Is it him again this time?"

Dobby shook his head quickly. "No," he whispered, "not-not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, miss…but it is too  _dangerous,_  Hope Potter  _must_  stay away!"

"No offense, but it's kind of dangerous everywhere," Hope muttered, rubbing at the new scar at her eyebrow. First the Keres, then the Cerastes, now  _this_. She hadn't broken a mirror recently, had she? Maybe that was why her mail hadn't been getting through…

Dobby looked suddenly sheepish and Hope realized that she'd said that last part out loud and Hope watched as he pulled a bundle of letters from within the dingy pillow-case of a tunic that he wore and Hope could recognize Daphne and Hermione's familiar handwriting, as well as a letter or two sealed with wax stamped with Gringotts' seal, and one with Narcissa's neat writing. "Dobby had hoped that if Hope Potter thought her friends had forgotten her…Hope Potter might not want to go back to school, miss."

"I've got more than one way to communicate with my friends," Hope replied, her words curt as she held out a hand. "Can I have them now?"

Hope had never had her mail stolen from her and she was tired and in an irritable mood and trying to maintain a calm façade was getting rather trying.

Dobby gave her an agreeable nod, thin fingers playing across the thick bundle. "If miss gives Dobby her word that she will not return to Hogwarts. This is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, miss!"

She couldn't help but be startled at his vehemence. It didn't seem like a prank, or, if it was, it was a rather poor choice of one. And she really wanted those letters, so she opened her mouth and lied through her teeth: "All right, I won't go back to Hogwarts."

The house-elf positively sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. "Thank you, miss," he murmured before handing over the bundle of letters to Hope at long last. "Dobby is so relieved."

And then he vanished in a crack, leaving Hope alone in the room, blinking a few times.

"Mindy," she called out and the house-elf appeared at her side in seconds.

"Mistress?" Mindy prompted.

"There was a house-elf just here that's been stealing my mail," Hope said, waving the large bundle of letters in Mindy's direction and her eyes grew wide. "Can you keep an eye on that?"

"Yes, Mistress," Mindy assured Hope resolutely and glint not unlike steel in her eyes. "Mindy will see to it."

"Good," Hope responded tiredly as the house-elf disappeared once more, setting the stack of letters onto the desk opposite the bed.

Whatever it was that Dobby wanted to warn her about could wait until tomorrow at the very least.

* * *

She didn't need to read Hermione and Daphne's letters, since they talked so much, and the most recent ones contained only single lines of:  _Send a letter back if you actually get this._  The sealed letters from Gringotts were just updates concerning her vaults and various estates, and there was a request for tea from Narcissa Malfoy from almost a week ago.

Hope pursed her lips. She liked Narcissa, of course, but she thought it was going to get rather awkward one of these days, seeing how Draco didn't like her and Lord Malfoy was a 'former' Death Eater that Hope generally treated rather coolly.

But she still wrote:

_Lady Narcissa,_

_It would be a pleasure to have tea again with you sometime soon. I apologize for taking so long to respond, my mail was unfortunately redirected for a few weeks and I'm only now catching up._

_As always,_

_Hope Potter_

"You don't look much like a newly twelve-year-old," a voice commented when Hope had set the letter down in its envelope, intending to send it off later that night, spinning her fingers through Hedwig's feathers before she took to the air with a lilting hoot in search of a snack.

"Thanks for that," Hope rolled her eyes as she turned to give Nomia a dry stare.

"Someone's got to keep you humble," Nomia laughed.

The dubious expression Hope threw her way was enough to make the laughter increase.

"C'mon, little El, I've got a real treat for you today." Hope barely caught the apple that Nomia threw at her face.

"I thought we were having a bit of a break today?" Hope inquired in confusion before taking a savage bite out of the apple to appease her stomach.

"I let you sleep in, love, that's about as good as you're going to get," Nomia replied flatly, "besides, I think you'll like this one."

Nomia crooked her finger and Hope narrowed her eyes, but she still followed her mentor out of the villa and out in the direction of the beach.

"Eh? Isn't she a  _beaut?"_  Nomia was beaming as she gestured out beyond the rocks to where she could see a ship lazing about close by.

Hope cupped a hand over her eyes in order to see better. It had to have been the  _Golden Fleece_ , though Hope had never seen it from the outside.

"She's a brigantine with two masts," Nomia informed her, "she's probably one of the most durable ships out at sea right now,  _definitely_  one of the oldest, probably mostly held together by magic and Brizo's –my love– blessing."

"Are we going on your ship?" Hope asked, eyes blown wide with interest. "Seriously?"

"And you thought today was going to be boring." Nomia shook her head fondly.

Hope couldn't quite remember what happened after Nomia dragged her into the surf, but the next thing she knew they were floating in the water next to the ship and water was soaking through her clothes.

Nomia was already scaling the side up the rope ladder to come out onto the deck. "Time and tide wait for no woman, El, hurry your  _ass_ up!"

Hope grumbled under her breath before pulling herself up out of the water and up the side of the ship, her feet landing on hardwood as she looked around with interest and awe.

"Welcome," Nomia beamed, "to the  _Golden Fleece."_

* * *

It was a beautiful day, it really was, and they'd decided to have a sort of late lunch, early dinner with a sort of buffet picnic, which meant that up by the house there was food laid out on a table and the girls were down on the beach in their swimsuits with their food.

"It's a lovely house," Mrs. Granger was saying to Remus as the adults ate in the villa, leaving their children separate, as children often were. The Blackwoods had come along for the ride, obviously, and if you looked in the distance to the beach away from where Hope, Aggie, Hermione, Daphne and Astoria were clumped, you'd be able to see Galen and Dianthe off close to the waves. "And it's so beautiful here, I can see why you two are staying for most of the summer."

Remus chuckled, taking a gulp of his pumpkin juice. "Well, I told Hope she didn't have to come with me and she looked at me like I was insane."

Both the doctors couldn't help but laugh at that and even Callista Greengrass allowed herself a smile.

"Aggie dragged her all over Greece the first week, I think," Thalia said, eyes flitting towards Remus. "I don't think she's met someone who likes runes almost as much as she does."

Thalia had never met the parents of her niece's friends, but she'd barely met Hope's friends, so that made sense. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were a change of pace, both being dentists and not quite understanding the world that their daughter was a part of, though incredibly pleased that she'd found friends who stuck with her through the thick and thin.

Callista on the other hand was a bit different, as she was a Lady, a Pure-blood one at that. Thalia too was Lady Blackwood, but she rarely needed to throw her weight around with that title, preferring Head Auror Blackwood, not to be confused with an Auror Blackwood that was from London that probably came from a Muggle family, it showed she was more than her title. Callista held herself stiffly, like she was expecting a fight to break out at any moment.

"They're going to be fine," Thalia said to her, following her back to the table while Remus and the Grangers reminisced about when the girls had decided to do two years in one ("I thought Hermione had lost her mind," Mr. Granger chuckled, "but our girl's stubborn to a fault." "Here, here," Remus agreed, clinking his glass with Mr. Granger's). "Your daughters."

Callista's lips twisted as she set the plate down on the table. "They'll be in constant harm's way until those bloody Gates are repaired."

"But they will be," Thalia insisted, "this isn't permanent and one day they won't have to worry about monsters nipping at their heels."

A muscle jumped in Callista's jaw. "I wish I had your certainty, but I don't believe in protecting myself and my children the same way as my mother. I'd rather have them at home indefinitely where they can't be hurt or killed." Callista rubbed at a spot on her eyebrow, the same area where Hope had been sliced.

Thalia didn't know everyone that was descended from gods, that would be complete and utter madness, but among those that she did know, there hadn't yet been any deaths, just a few near misses, enough that she thought it best to keep her mouth shut and look over to the beach to where their children were all sitting together.

"You aimed an arrow at her?" Astoria was gazing at Aggie at awe and Aggie turned pink as Hope fell back into the sand howling with laughter.

"It's not  _funny!_  I thought she was going to kill you!" Aggie poked Hope in the stomach. "She was using you as a  _sword-sharpener!"_

"To be honest, she was  _probably_  trying to kill me," Hope snorted, pulling herself up out of the sand.

"You were taught swordsmanship by someone who was  _trying_  to kill you?" Hermione asked, startled.

"Eh, kinda," Hope acquiesced. "I mean, it's basically defending to her attacks, it's  _not_ as bad as it sounds."

"Sounds pretty bad," Daphne said into her cup of pumpkin juice and they all laughed at Hope's expense.

"There is no  _love!"_  Hope cried dramatically. "You see this, Astoria? This is what you have to look forward to."

Astoria giggled. "I don't think anyone's like you lot."

"That's either a compliment or an insult," Hermione pointed out with a smile, "and I honestly can't tell which one it is." She sounded mildly impressed and Astoria preened.

"You have weird friends," Aggie laughed.

"You knew that when you met them months ago," Hope snorted. "Besides, you and Ajax are weird together, too, don't deny it." Even without meeting Ajax, she knew it was true.

"Minor details," Aggie said airily, thinking of her best friend, and they all laughed. "I'm more interested in the fact you were on the  _Golden Fleece_  and you didn't invite  _me."_ The outrage in her voice and her expression but Hope couldn't help but smile.

"It wasn't like I was  _expecting_  it," Hope defended herself. "Nomia just showed up and dragged me through the water and the next thing I knew I was on the ship."

"What was it like?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Strange," Hope said after a long moment, "it's kind of hard to get used to, walking on a ship at sea, you know, because of the waves, but Nomia's crew was pretty cool. She told them I'm her protégée." Hope grinned faintly. "She asked me about coming out for a week to see what it's like, being on a pirate ship out at sea."

Aggie tried not to let her annoyance show, but it was hard work. She was the one that had been interested in  _the Siren_  first, it had seemed only fitting that she be on a ship first, yet, at the same time, she couldn't help but think that Hope might've been better suited for a ship than Aggie.

"But never mind that," Hope said suddenly, "I did figure out what was going wrong with my mail."

" _Ooh!_  Was it the wards?" Hermione's eyes were gleaming brightly and they all laughed at the offended expression that overtook Hope's face.

"No, it was not," Hope sniffed, "it was some house-elf stealing my mail."

"Okay, what?" Daphne covered her laugh with a cough. "Really what was it?"

"I'm being  _serious!_  It was a house-elf diverting my mail! And he only gave them back to me because I said I wasn't going to go back to Hogwarts!"

"Really?" Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Why? What's wrong with going back to Hogwarts?"

"He wouldn't really say." Hope frowned. "Just that it was very dangerous and it wasn't Voldemort."

"That's not really helpful," Aggie pointed out.

"He was kind of skittish," Hope had to admit, her face wrinkling with thought, "and he tried to beat his head into my bedpost."

"He did what?" Hermione sounded horrified and even Aggie's eyes widened, but Astoria and Daphne shared a look; they had seen a few house-elves like that.

"He probably works for a family that doesn't treat him very well," Daphne said and it was almost sad how unfazed by that she was.

"Doesn't treat him well?" Hermione's voice was rising in volume, though not enough to disturb Dianthe and Galen where they were being driven back by the waves, laughing as they did so. "Why wouldn't they treat him well?"

Daphne shrugged. "Not everyone's as nice as we are—" She gestured from herself to Hope. "—about out house-elves. There's a lot of people that think they're inferior…I think there was one family that actually mounted their heads on the walls once they'd died."

"That is  _revolting!"_  Hermione was absolutely horrified.

"I don't think Mum's had many cases of house-elf mistreatment in awhile," Aggie piped up.

"That's probably because people don't have as much of a stick up their a—"

" _Hope!"_  Hermione reproached as the others laughed and Hope held up her hands in surrender.

"I'm just telling it like it is," Hope insisted.

"There's a minor over here," Daphne pointed out, gesturing towards Astoria who gave her the filthiest look she could muster and Hope couldn't help but be deeply impressed.

"You're a minor too," Astoria sniffed.

"Minor details." Daphne waved her hand carelessly with a grin and a wink before taking another bite of the cake on her plate.

They'd opened presents before hand, and Hermione had gotten Hope a Sneakoscope, which was a sort of spinning top that lit up and made noises when someone untrustworthy was around, as a bit of a gag and a pair of long black gloves because "One day you're going to burn right through your hands practicing that magic of yours" so Hope took that to mean the gloves were enchanted to protect the skin. Daphne has given her a book on  _Piracy Through the Ages_  and a bunch of Peppermint Toads, one of Hope's favourites, and the Blackwoods had given her some crystals to experiment with and Aggie had given her some charms for bottle spells, if she ever did them. Remus, most of all, had gifted her with a pair of boots that wouldn't look amiss on a pirate ship.

It would've been easy for him to shoot her down, to warn her away from Nomia, who he didn't know and didn't quite trust, but he took Hope at her word. If she didn't spread her wings, then how would she learn to fly?

So Hope grabbed Hermione, who yelped in surprise, dragging her off in the direction of the surf, screaming in surprise when the water hit them. The other girls followed after and from up above Callista stood, watching her daughters laugh with their friends, watching the older boy –Galen– catch Hope's head in the crook of his arm as she squirmed, trying to get free. The blonde girl –Dianthe– splashed water at Astoria and her little girl kicked up water in retaliation.

 _Let them be children_ , she thought,  _let them be innocent, let them not have to deal with monsters and chaos._

And if she'd said those words aloud, Thalia would've looked on her with such a mournful expression, recalling the same belief before the death of her sister.

* * *

Hope only packed a single bag and she left her black poplar wand on the table beside her bed. She grabbed a last hug from Remus and a promise to be as careful as she could be, before running off in the direction of the shoreline where a longboat was waiting to take her to the ship.

She didn't look back, her sword swinging at her hip, and her grin didn't fade.

* * *

Léon de Grammont didn't like to think of himself as prejudiced in any way, especially with his own family. He still remembered the behaviours of some members of his mother's family at her funeral, their disdain of him as clear as the day he'd been born, being a child born out of wedlock, sired by a Muggle pirate that had ran at the first chance. He hadn't been allowed to even speak at her funeral and nothing had incensed him more, and he probably would've thrown something if his grandfather hadn't kept a firm grip on his shoulder.

He'd dealt with Muggles watching him carefully because of the colour of his skin, but still, watching some English girl speaking the tongue of snakes was enough to put him on edge in a same manner. Parseltongue wasn't exactly a revered ability, but, at the same time, Nomia wouldn't vouch for her without having some belief in her, and Léon trusted Nomia.

Léon trusted Nomia with his life.

The girl, Elpis, she'd said, was rather small and unassuming with a broadsword at her side similar in size and weight to his own, but he very much doubted she could use it as well.

" _Capitaine?"_  a voice broke through his pondering and he lifted his eyes to see one of the newest of his crew standing there, a slight girl of sixteen, skin sun kissed and bright eyes gleaming. Vivienne had run away from home to join up with his crew, but Léon had had nothing against her being a crewman, even given who her father worked for. "There's someone on our stern."

"What the—?" She held the helm steady as he peered around to see that there was indeed a ship following after them.

Léon held a spyglass to his eye and swore. "No colours flying," he grumbled, "it's those damned Red Coats again."

Where there was piracy, you could always find those that tried to capture and kill them. Red Coats was the kindest term for those kinds of people. No one really knew how many of them existed or who they really were. The idea that they were from a secret society was amusing but no less provable than the other.

"Ready the canons!" He barked. "We're going to about face!"

And then his crew was rushing about, disappearing under to the lower decks, shouting to one another as Léon spun the wheel, turning the ship so sharply that some of the crew lost their balance.

Léon gritted his teeth together.  _Great, just great._

* * *

Hope tightened the rope so that the sails wouldn't be pulled free, assisting two other young pirates.

"Did Nomia ever tell you what they're calling you now?" Will had a rather obvious burn from his shoulder down to his elbow, showcased rather shamelessly with his biceps exposed. The pirates were very open about their scars, mistakes and triumphs.

"I'm sure it's something impressive, knowing pirates," Hope grunted, knotting the rope over the knob.

"They're calling ya Serpent Tongue," Bridger responded at her left, one dark eye glittering, her other one hidden under a patch. "Not as impressive as Demon of the Sea, I'll give you that…" She threw her head back and laughed, her dark silky hair falling down her back in a loose ponytail.

"You're terrible," Hope lamented, catching the apple Will aimed at her head as she leaned against the boat's edge and taking a rough bite out of it.

There were so many people on the ship that Hope didn't think she was ever going to remember all their names, but Will and Bridger were the ones that took the time to explain everything and just chat. Hope liked them the best.

"What happened to your eye?" Hope asked Bridger after a short silence, in a manner that was almost rude, but Hope had found that the direct approach worked best with pirates, worked best with her.

Bridger might've winked with that smirk on her lips, but the eye patch made it impossible to tell. "That would be telling, don'cha think?"

"I think it's where she stores up all her magic to shoot lightning out of," Will stage-whispered and Bridger pulled a dagger out of her book and aimed it at his throat half-heartedly.

Hope looked out to the sea, the miles upon miles stretch of blue-green.

And Hope had never seen anything quite so beautiful in her whole life. A life on land was starting to look rather unappealing. Just the idea of staying out here, with nothing but a ship and a crew to keep her company…it was enough for her, but her thoughts lingered on Remus, and the girls, and the Blackwoods. She couldn't just leave them behind, they all deserved better than that.

Besides, Aggie would never forgive her for that.

"You'll get sick a' the view eventually," Bridger informed her sagely. "Nothing around fer miles."

"You mean that isn't the best part?" Hope asked innocently and Bridger snorted while Will rolled his eyes.

"She's like the Captain, Brig," Will's eyes flitted to the naiad at the helm, her bright hair swaying in the wind. "Call of the Sea, and all that…probably would rather be out at sea than on land."

"Don' we all?" Bridger sniggered, pulling a flask from her belt and taking a swig before offering it to her friend and then to Hope who eyed it suspiciously. "Oh, live a little, El! Some rum won't kill ya!"

So Hope took it and swallowed some down. It was like fire and molasses and vanilla and filled her cheeks with a flush. "That's, um, some good rum."

Bridger laughed before nodding sagely. "Trust me, rum keeps ya sane 'round here…'specially with Mr. First Mate." She jerked her head in the direction of James Gill, where he was standing, scruffy beard and all, at the bow of the ship.

Hope remembered the minor argument she'd astral projected into between him and Nomia and he was even colder in person.

"He's a dick," Will agreed, careful so that they wouldn't be overheard. "He kind of makes it seem like he's waiting for Nomia to drop dead."

"Fat chance of that," Hope snorted. Nomia had been around for centuries, and she would probably be around for centuries more.

"I's just a rumor," Bridger pointed out, "we're all loyal 'round here."

But Hope didn't think either of them would've brought it up if it didn't bother them in some way, and the pair seemed to be as loyal as they came.

Hope took another bite from the apple, twisting around to look out on the sea, the sun bright and shining down on them as it drifted downwards. She looked down and could've sworn that she saw some faces under the rolling waves; mermaids, if the tail fins were to be believed.

She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. Her hair was lighter these days, an identical bronze to Thanatos' and with eyes just as dark as his own. Hope had a tendency to stick to that colouring around pirates and the black hair and green eyes combination when at Hogwarts, which she thought was just a bit telling.

But at least out here she was known as El, Nomia's little protégée that cut the head of a Cerastes clean off. Serpent Tongue was an impressive title, but it belonged to someone who had no pirating experience.

"There's a foul wind," Bridger spoke suddenly and Hope turned back to her. Bridger was standing still, her arms at her side, not moving, her eye glazed. Hope had only known her a few days, but she could tell there was something distinctly off about her, even the way the words left her mouth was wrong. "Blood moon tonight…that bodes ill."

"What d'you mean?" Hope frowned as the wind picked up and she looked up to the sky where the clouds were beginning to gradually darken.

"Death," Bridger's eye gleamed and Will shot off for the aft of the ship to reach Nomia and Hope took the spyglass from Bridger's hip, but the pirate didn't appear to notice, even as Hope lengthened it, looking out on the horizon.

Hope was never one to believe in prophecies, and she certainly thought Trelawney was a sham, but how Bridger had seemed to almost flip her personality in less than a second.

She scanned the sea beyond them and it took her a few moments, following Bridger's line of sight. There were two ships, but only one bore the Jolly Roger of a pirate, the other was a simple flag of red. Hope didn't know any of the Jolly Rogers, the flags flown by pirates, only that Nomia flew a seashell with crossed bones on either side on a dark green flag. This one was unfamiliar, a fleur-de-lis on a blue flag, rippling in the wind with the explosions of canons.

Maybe the ship was French? And Hope's thoughts jumped to the angry boy in the Marina, Léon.

"Ship with a fleur-de-lis, Nomia!" she yelled up to the captain and Nomia swore, and the next thing Hope knew, she'd turned the ship so sharply that Hope almost fell.

" _To arms!"_  Nomia bellowed over the rush of the wind. "We're assisting the  _Concorde!_  Ready the guns!"

And then everyone was rushing about, the  _Golden Fleece_  drawing closer and closer to the pair of ships that were firing upon one another. Hope couldn't help but watch in a sort of horrified awe. She'd never seen a pirate battle before, really, things on the  _Golden Fleece_  had been rather tame by comparison.

She blinked and then stumbled, her eyes impossibly wide. It was like when she was in the middle of the Potter Lands and her thoughts drifted to the manor and the next thing she knew, she'd find herself just outside the main doors. Salazar's Flashing wasn't exactly the best way to travel and Hope had taken to avoiding it since it could be very dangerous, but accidents happened.

It was easy to differentiate between the pirates and the ones they were fighting, mostly because the enemies were wearing a similar red uniform and the pirates weren't.

"What the hell?" demanded a voice and Hope turned and blinked, looking to the boy at the helm, the dark-skinned Frenchman that hadn't taken to her in the Marina; Léon de Grammont.

She didn't have time to offer him any reply, pulling out her sword and blocking a strike from a man wearing a crisp red coat. He was older and heavier and far more experienced than Hope, but Hope couldn't think about that. Her heart was racing and her knuckles were tight around the hilt of her blade, but she couldn't afford to think about anything less than keeping herself from being killed.

"This isn't a game," Nomia had told her seriously, pulling her aside on her first day aboard the Golden Fleece. "This is life. Mercy is something that will get you killed out here, if someone is aiming a sword at you, it's to kill and you should do the same."

Hope blocked a strike that was meant for her throat before he fell back and onto the sword of one of the men wearing a red coat, unintentionally skewering his comrade and Hope swallowed before aiming her sword forward.

The boy, Léon, had abandoned the helm, leaving it in the hands of a woman with a peg-leg and a severe expression, and he was far better with his sword, taking down two enemies with one wide strike and shooting down a third. Hope tried not to think about the death surrounding her, but she was definitely the first to notice the pistol aimed in his direction.

Hope didn't think, she moved, jolting forward to slam her shoulder into Léon's knocking him to the ground. The musket-ball missed him by inches and his hazel eyes jumped to the hole in his ship, but Hope didn't wait up.

The cannons were a dulled echo and the pistols were sharper, the swords ringing as she moved, dodging strikes where she could only to be completely blindsided by a flash of green as someone threw done a jar and exploded, the light hitting one of the enemies in the face and he fell like a marionette with his strings cut.

Hope swallowed the fear and the disgust when someone grabbed another jar, this one with a red flame, throwing it up into the air and shooting it. The explosion burned across Hope's chest as she was thrown back, but the girl nearest it got it the worst, shooting her down the stairs to the level below the deck and, thoughtlessly, Hope went after her.

She tripped down the stairs, stumbling to the girl where she'd landed.

"Hey! You all right?" she called before making her way over to the girl, falling to her knees at her side. Her hair was fanned around her head and her eyes were just slivers of colour, a hand feeling brokenly at her abdomen and Hope swallowed thickly. Red was painted there like a bouquet of crimson poppies against her skin. The girl coughed, choking on her blood.

This was a situation that threw Hope completely out of her depth. She was shaking and her blood was pulsing loudly in her ears, she was so in over her head and there was a girl only a few years older than her dying right before her eyes.

"Ohshiteohshite _ohshite,"_ the swear slurred together as her wide eyes took in the seeping blood before turned to yell up,  _"We need some help down here!"_

The girl's eyes fluttered and her brow furrowed, a pained hiss escaping her as Hope tried to press down on the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

"Hang on," Hope told her, trying to keep her voice from shaking, but she didn't quite manage it.  _"_ _ **Therapévo!"**_ The healing spell failed her for the first time and it was like an electric shock in her veins. "No!  _No!_  Work!  _ **Therapévo!"**_

"It won't –work," the girl said thickly, the words sharp and detached, and Hope couldn't tell if that was because of her accent or because of the blood pooling in her mouth, "because you –can't heal –this."

"Then I'll –I'll get help," Hope fumbled, making to stand, but the girl tugged at her hand weakly.

"Don't leave," she rasped, her blue eyes so afraid of the unknown, of death, and Hope found herself frozen where she was sitting, the blood pulsing warm and hot over her hands. "I don't –w-want to –be –alone."

Hope swallowed thickly, blinking furiously. She didn't even know this girl, this  _random girl_  on this ship that was captained by a short-tempered Frenchman. She didn't owe this girl anything, but it was the fear in her eyes that stilled Hope's movements, because she knew that if she was going to die, she wouldn't want to be alone.

"What's your name?" Hope asked shakily, keeping her hands on the wound, hopelessly trying to keep her from bleeding out but knowing that it was useless.

"V-Vivienne," the girl rasped.

"Vivienne, you're going to be fine." Hope gave her a fake smile and she knew the girl saw through it.

"I-I'm scared," Vivienne whispered in between the sounds of explosions outside and yells. Hope tried her best to ignore them and focus just on Vivienne. Her eyes were a very pretty blue, light and pale and deserving much better than a death by explosion on a pirate ship.

"It's okay," Hope breathed, blinking furiously, but it wasn't enough and the tears that had clung so desperately to her eyes fell, blurring her vision briefly. "It's gonna be fine, you're gonna be  _fine."_

Then green eyes met blue once again and held them until the light had faded and Hope found herself quite unable to move. She couldn't look away, not even when someone stumbled down the stairs and gave a roar of grief, not even when that person was dragged back out, not even when the sounds of gunfire had ceased. It was only when someone came behind her and literally pulled her away that she looked away.

The only thing Hope could heart was her heart beating in her chest as she sat against the side of the ship, looking at her hands at the blood staining them.

"Your name is Elpis, right?" a voice echoed in front of her and Hope blinked, seeing the young captain balancing on the balls of his feet as he knelt in front of her and for the first time he didn't seem quite as rough as he had the day they'd met. "You're with Nomia's crew?"

"Um," Hope closed her eyes tightly and forced them open once more, her thoughts clearing, "yeah, I'm with Nomia."

Léon handed her a rag and she stared at it blankly for a second before taking it and scrubbing viciously at her hands. "How did you get on the ship?"

Hope looked over the edge to see the  _Golden Fleece_  swaying in the waves not too far away and she grimaced. "I Flashed."

" _Flashed?"_  Léon practically oozed doubt and Hope couldn't help but feel vaguely insulted.

"It's like apparition but quieter and less sudden, I guess." Hope shrugged slightly. "It's only recommended for short distances, though, it usually causes blood poisoning over long distances…besides, I didn't really plan on it, it just kind of…happened." She made a lame gesture.

"It just kind of  _happened_ ," Léon repeated in a deadpan and she couldn't help but glower at him.

"Look," she snapped heatedly, "I was fine where I was! I didn't _plan_  on being on this ship and, you're welcome by the wall, you know,  _for saving your life."_

"You didn't save my life, English Bitch," he fired back, "I was  _fine_  on my own!"

"Fine on your own, my _arse_ , you French Bastard!" Hope threw back. "You would've gotten a hole in your head!"

They were glaring at each other only for their fiery anger to abruptly fade as Vivienne was brought out and Hope looked away quickly. Someone had shut her eyes so the blankly staring blue eyes could no longer be seen. Vivienne wasn't the only casualty, but she was the only death that Hope had to physically watch. Hope swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, sighing loudly.

"Thank you," Léon said, startling Hope severely. "For staying with her."

"I," Hope paused and swallowed thickly, "I tried to call for help, I tried to heal her, but it just  _wouldn't work!"_  Her voice rose in volume in her anger at herself. Hope looked down at her hands, the blood that remained there a reminder of Hope's failure.

"There's one thing a pirate can never take personally," Léon said and Hope looked up, "and that's not to take a crewman's death personally, especially if you don't have a hand in it."

Easier said than done, Hope thought miserably.

"Let's get you back to the  _Golden Fleece,"_  he said.

* * *

"Tough day," Nomia remarked, leaning against the table that held a variety of maps while Hope sat in the back of the captain's quarters, looking through the window behind to look out at sea. The sun had fallen to make way for the night and Hope thought that matched her attitude about everything.

"Hey." A light touch to Hope's arm drew her attention back to Nomia as the naiad sat beside her. "Don't beat yourself up about that girl, it's horrible but it happens."

"How did you feel when you saw someone die?" Hope asked her flatly.

"Terrible," Nomia said simply, "it's worse the younger they are, but you need to understand that this life isn't all fun and games…sometimes it really  _sucks."_

"Then why have you been a pirate so long?" Hope asked. "Wouldn't you want to quit and kickback with –with Brizo?"

"That would be the life," Nomia laughed, leaning her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as the thought washed over her, "but it would never work…the reason we're still together is because we can spend time away from each other, and if there's one thing pirates prize above everything else, it's their freedom."

Hope chewed on the corner of her lip. "I couldn't save her," she said, the words sounding hollow to her ears and Nomia's face grew soft.

"Sometimes you can't save everyone, sometimes your best is all you've got and anyone that expects more of you can literally shove off."

Hope spared her a smile and Nomia patted her knee kindly, far kindly than was her usual temperament. "Get some sleep," she said, "we're docking in the Marina tomorrow. Enjoy your last night on the ship."

So Hope left the captain to take the stairs down to where the crew slept, pulling herself into the hammock she'd been using, trying not to let her dreams dwell on Vivienne.

Hope dreamed of explosions and blood and blue, blue eyes.

* * *

Bridger and Will both gave her hugs the day she left and Nomia grasped her arm tightly, as pirates did, before leaning forward to rest her brow against Hope's.

"You're always welcome," Nomia had said before Hope left the ship to meet Remus at the Auror Department.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked her once he'd gotten through hugging her tight enough to burst and Hope smiled, lying through her teeth as she replied, "The best."

And for the most part her life resumed. She practiced her swordsmanship as best as she could now that Nomia had returned fully to the  _Golden Fleece_  and Thalia and Galen were working full time. She practiced her violin and her Greek under the supervision of Mindy who had now capitalized on Nomia's absence to get Hope back to acting like the heiress she should've been. She walked the streets of Greece with Aggie, she mirror-called her friends, and Hope never told anyone about Vivienne or what had happened that night. And if Hope had trouble sleeping, she certainly didn't bring it up.

She went about life as usual, albeit a bit more reserved, a bit quieter, enough that Remus brought it up once or twice, but Hope never strayed from telling him she was fine. It was lucky that the class was taking up most of his time or she would've never managed to get away with it.

And Hope finally had the time to meet up with Narcissa after pushing back their tea time in favour of taking off to the seas with Nomia.

"Lady Narcissa," she said diplomatically as a house-elf took her cloak and Hope didn't really notice how it kept its head bowed and avoided looking up at her, "it's so lovely to see you."

"And you, my dear," Narcissa smiled, kissing Hope's cheeks as Hope did the same. "How did you enjoy sailing?" She remembered the reason Hope had given for pushing back their tea time.

She led Hope into the sitting room that they had sat in the last time Hope had visited, with the tea already set out for them. Hope smoothed her robes before she sat down. "It was a bit of a reality check," Hope admitted. "The last day was kind of…jarring, but I guess I hadn't really considered that it wasn't all smooth sailing." Her face fell slightly and Narcissa frowned. "My mentor, Nomia, she's a fan of hard truths, but I suppose it makes more sense to learn through experience." Hope pursed her lips slightly before lifting the teacup to her lips and taking a sip of the Jasmine tea. "Father-son day?" she queried, taking notice of the lack of Lucius and Draco in the manor.

They always seemed to be conspicuously gone whenever Hope showed up, as rare as her visits were, and she was starting to think that was by design.

"I'm well aware of how you feel about Death Eaters," Narcissa said simply, "and my son is hardly fond of you, so here we are."

Hope's lips twisted faintly. There was nothing accusatory in Narcissa's voice but Hope couldn't help but feel slightly on guard. Remus had never felt very comfortable about Hope going off to Malfoy Manor, knowing full well that Lucius Malfoy had once been so proud of the Dark Mark on the inside of his arm, and knowing that Narcissa's sister Bellatrix was rotting in Azkaban for the very same reason. But Narcissa had extended an olive branch to Hope the first day they'd met, and she hadn't given Hope to disregard that kindness.

"So, I take it you had a rather…romanticized view on sailing?" Narcissa presumed and whatever she thought, Hope very much doubted that she had an inkling that Hope had been aboard a pirate ship.

"I suppose," Hope muttered before taking another sip of her tea. "I just need some time to…deal with everything."

Narcissa wouldn't pretend that she knew Hope Potter very well, but she could tell that something was new, something was different. There was a shadow behind her eyes that hadn't been there before and somehow she had a feeling of what had caused it.

"Sometimes it does you a bit of good to just…step back," Narcissa advised and Hope blinked, turning her attention on the older witch. "Take some time away from everything. Figure out what it is that you want."

"Speaking from experience?" Hope gathered but all Narcissa did was give her a sly smile that she couldn't hope to interpret.

"Looking forward to your next year?" Narcissa asked instead, lulling Hope away from the topic at hand and when Hope left an hour later Hope had to wonder if there was more to Narcissa than met the eye.

* * *

"I wish you could stay longer!" Aggie bemoaned the last day of Remus' summer job when Hope was packing up the last of her things in the room she'd claimed, the Ouroborus pendant sliding under her shirt as she shoved the last of her clothes into the bag. "There's so much  _more_  to Greece!"

"I've seen a lot of it," Hope laughed. "You pulled me around to literally every corner of it."

"Not  _every_  corner," Aggie sulked petulantly as Hope handed the bag off to Mindy who took it and disappeared in a crack. Fred and George had been paid already for 'looking after' her greenhouse so the manor would be vacant when they returned, and the twins had sent her a bottle with several orb-shaped objects within and a note that said:  _Cheers!_  But Hope was inherently distrustful of anything offered to her by them. "If only school hadn't started up again!"

Hope was lucky that Hogwarts began in September so she had a bit more time, though not very much. The beginning of the new term was fast approaching and Hope need to run off and get her books from Diagon Alley sooner rather than later, because she heard that Gilderoy Lockhart, the author of the eight books for Defense Against the Dark Arts in the coming term –which was completely ridiculous if you asked Hope, eight books for a single subject?– would be having a book signing and Hope wasn't a fan of waiting around for an author she didn't know and cared less about. (Now if there was a signed work of J.R.R. Tolkien, she'd pay good money for that, but that was a separate subject)

"Tell Ajax I say hi." Hope had never met Aggie's elusive friend, mostly because his grandfather had practically locked him away after they'd learned about the damage done to the Gates, so Hope took that to mean that he was another legacy, but she thought it wasn't really her business to ask.

Aggie bobbed her head agreeably before winding her arms around her cousin and gripping her tightly. "Don't forget to give me that book of yours when you're done with it."

Hope smiled into her shoulder. It was comforting to know that she wasn't the only one around interested in Earth Magick. "I think it might be awhile before you get it."

"No!" Aggie bemoaned as she released Hope and Hope allowed herself another laugh when Thalia appeared at the door, clearing her throat. "Is it time to go?"

"Just about," Thalia's eyes twinkled in her daughter's direction. "Give me a mo' with your cousin, would you, Aggie?"

"Sure," Aggie said, darting past her to stand in the hall. "I'll meet you downstairs!"

Thalia sat down on the bed, pressing down on the hilt of the sword at her hip so it was resting horizontally on the bed and not stabbing anything. "Hope, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Hope had the uncomfortable impression of Thalia giving her the sex talk just a few years too early and couldn't help but feel awkward about that idea. Luckily, it wasn't what Thalia had planned, which was more of a relief than it should've been. The idea of sexual attraction to other people was by far the worst topic and one that Hope knew would never apply to her.

"I want you to keep the sword on you," she said and Hope heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm  _serious._  Just because monsters are lying low now doesn't mean they always will be." Thalia made a general gesture towards Hope's eye and Hope scowled. "And there's something else."

Hope arched an eyebrow.

"Descendants of the gods have certain, shall we say, affinities?" Thalia drummed two fingers in the air. "The farther back Thanatos' blood goes, the less gifts are imparted upon us. Of myself and my children, only Galen has displayed an ability like that."

"What is it?" Hope asked, suddenly interested.

"Galen calls it Umbraportation, travelling by binding to shadows," Thalia said wryly, thinking of her son, undoubtedly. "It probably has another name, but Thanatos never called it anything else. Supposedly some had a bit of a touch of death, but that was probably a rumour…just be a bit careful around shadows, will you?"

Hope remembered how Thanatos always appeared out of darkness and she couldn't find herself surprised. "Okay," she said flatly. "Because it's not like shadows are hard to avoid at all."

"Be nice." Thalia tweaked her nose and Hope rubbed at it. "Just look after yourself at school…and look after those friends of yours."

"It's usually  _me_  that ends up in the most trouble," Hope pointed out grimly and Thalia spared her a laugh before giving her a brief hug.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Thalia said, squeezing at her shoulders, "and we'll see you at Christmas."

Hope smiled again. "Give Galen my love." The boy had gotten the absolute worst shift at the Auror Department and hadn't been able to convince anyone to take it, so he was stuck at work while his mum and sister saw his cousin and (sort of) uncle off.

"I'm sure he knows," Thalia laughed before they descended the stairs to meet Remus standing with his cane in hand, looking much browner than he had before, which was funny because he'd spent most of his time inside.

He took one of Mindy's hands and Hope took the other, giving one last wave before they disappeared with a crack.

Hope's knees buckled slightly before she straightened up once more to find herself in the sitting room in Potter Manor.

"I never thought I'd miss this place with the villa in Greece," Hope said, smiling at the room, "maybe I take this place for granted."

Remus dropped a hand to the top of her head, smiling fondly. "You've just been away for awhile, that's all."

Wales wasn't Greece, that was sure, but it had its own appeal.

"I'm going to take a nap," he informed her, patting her shoulder lightly. "Maybe you should too."

Hope smiled thinly but didn't acknowledge the grey half-crescents under her eyes. Still, she did make her way up to her room, sitting on her bed for the longest time, but she couldn't bring herself to fall asleep like Remus.

Sleep was a thing of the past to her now, at least restful sleep was, Hope had a tendency towards rest _less_  sleep after Vivienne's death.

Hope ran a hand through her hair, her eyes falling to the deck of cards on her bedside table; her tarot cards. She didn't use them often and hadn't used them recently, but they weren't generally meant to be taken as fact and Hope didn't have as much faith in certain forms of Divination as Daphne did, but it did run in Daphne's family, so that wasn't too surprising.

She pulled the small book from beside the cards, flipping through the pages upon pages of card spreads, but the one that was of the most interest to Hope was the Star Guide Spread.

Using one hand, she fanned the deck out in front of her on the bed, smoothing one hand over the cards, her eyes half closed before she pulled the first card free.

To represent 'present situation' it was the Magician – _creative power, a willingness to take risks, the ability to recognize one's own potential._

To represent 'causes of conflicts and obstacles', she pulled the reversed Hierophant  _–feelings of being restricted or constrained by structure and rules, breaking tradition, questioning if what is being done is the right thing to do._

To represent 'changes needed in order to face challenges', she pulled the reversed Two of Wands – _naked ambition that knows no bounds, loss of faith in self, afraid of stepping into unknown territories, overlooking the things that matter the most._

To represent 'strengths' she had the Queen of Swords – _the need to be independent in thought and in judgment, not letting emotion get in the way of decisions, remaining impartial._

To represent 'other challenges', she pulled Death – _ending of a major phase of life and the beginning of something far more valuable and important, putting the past behind you, significant transformation and transition, sudden and unexpected change._

And finally, the 'final outcome' was The Tower – _turmoil and destruction, an awakening, dramatic upheaval, widespread repercussions of actions, conflict, sudden violent loss, overthrow of an existing way of life._

Not exactly the most positive spread. Hope frowned before returning them to the pile and placing them back on her bedside table.

"Maybe you ought to talk to someone, dearie," her mirror suggested and Hope glowered in its direction.

"That'll end well," she muttered before tugging on her shoes and leaving the room, though not before grabbing up her rune sketchbook and a pencil, taking the stairs two at a time before making her way out into the sunlight. It warmed her as she walked, tucking the sketchbook under her arm. She walked right through the small river that Hope had once ice-skated on with her cousins instead of taking the bridge, letting the water soak through her feet before she trekked on.

She only stopped when she came to the craggy beach, looking out on the sea, the waves crashing against the rocks. The air smelled of salt water and her skin tingled, aching to be in the water once more.

"Not a bad view."

Hope swore violently, twisting so sharply that she tangled her feet and ended up falling on her arse, leaving Léon de Grammont to snort loudly. "How in  _Hades_  did you get here?" she demanded as she pulled herself out of the sand, swiping the granules from her pants.

Léon was taller than her, not by much, but enough that Hope found it irritating. Hope hadn't noticed it at the time, she'd been rather preoccupied. There were a few thin scars on his lower arms and a dark red bandana bound to his brow with a piece of eight dangling from one ear. Hope didn't know why, but for some reason he looked more like a pirate than Nomia, more like how Hope would expect a pirate to look, albeit a French pirate.

"I have wards, you know," she grumbled as she swiped her hands together.

"Not very good ones," Léon jibed, crossing his arms and Hope's eyebrow twitched.

"Do you  _exist_  to bitch?" Hope responded heatedly.

Léon arched an eyebrow, a smirk twisting his lips faintly. "Well, no one's complained before."

Hope snorted, rolling her eyes. "Maybe that's because you're a captain, no one wants to go against a captain, even a young one."

"Well, they could try, but then they'd have a mutiny on their hands," Léon responded wryly, his eyes focusing on her hair and her eyes with an almost avid interest. "Did you dye your hair and magic your eyes a different colour?"

Hope's expression soured. "I'm a Metamorphmagus, I can change my appearance at will. I usually look like this because it's what people expect."

Léon arched an eyebrow.

"My mother's eyes," Hope pointed to the green irises before making a general gesture to her head of dark hair, "my father's hair."

"Do you always do what people expect?"

Hope thought about how her parents went into Gryffindor and how everyone thought that the Girl-Who-Lived would do the same. She thought about how Dumbledore had expected her to simply go back to the Dursleys because it was 'safer' with them than Remus.

"Not always," Hope said before narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion. "How did you get past my wards?"

Léon winked but didn't say, something Hope found more annoying than endearing.

"Do you normally show up on the property of someone you argue with every time you meet?"

"I do not argue with you every time we meet," Léon retorted hotly, to which Hope gave him a dry stare. "I just don't like you, you're a bitch."

"And you're a bastard, glad we got that out of the way." At this point Hope was beyond exasperated with him and either she was going to kill him one day soon or she was beginning to like him. She had a feeling that 'English bitch' and 'French bastard' were going to stick.

Hope sat down heavily on a craggy rock and she thought Léon might, but he remained standing at her side.

"Why do you go by Elpis?" he asked her after the longest moment with Hope's eyes fixed on the endless surf. "Everyone knows the name that goes with that scar."

Hope doubted that. Even if she was famous in the United Kingdom for being Hope Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, with the lightning bolt scar on her forehead, no one on the Golden Fleece had even commented on it. Every pirate had scars, a twelve year old with two on her face wasn't exactly something new.

"Elpis is my ancestral name," Hope shrugged. "I like it better."

"Not as impressive as Serpent Tongue."

Hope scowled. "I didn't ask for that," she bit out.

"What about speaking Parseltongue? The language of snakes that's a mark of a Dark Wizard or Witch? Did you ask for that?"

Fire burned in her veins and Hope stood, twisting to face him with eyes as black as coal. "It might surprise you,  _Capitaine de Grammont_ , but I have  _no control_  over who my ancestors were and the abilities I inherited from them. I didn't  _ask_ to be a Parselmouth but the only thing it's a mark of is another  _fucking_  language, so if that's all you've got to say, I suggest you  _get off my property!"_

Léon held up his hands in surrender, more startled than anything else by her vehemence. "I didn't mean it like that."

The glare Hope gave him put clear doubts to that idea, but she cooled off considerably, so that was something. Léon rubbed his thumb over the knuckles of one of his hands.

"If there's someone you want to blame for Vivienne's death," he said finally and Hope looked up startled, "you can start with Lothaire Germaine."

"Who?" Hope asked blankly.

"Vivienne's father." Léon stuck his hands into the pockets of his vest. "He's one of the Red Coats…he's the one that caused the explosion that killed her." He extended a photograph and Hope took it, blankly staring down out at the face looking out of the picture, deep-set eyes that were the same colour as his daughter, his hair dark and hanging loose around a jutting chin adorner with a similarly dark beard.

Hope frowned. "Was he the one that came down and yelled?"

Léon's brow furrowed, undoubtedly wondering how she couldn't have known that for certain, but Hope had been preoccupied and there had been so much blood on her hands. "That was him. My first mate threw him overboard, but he definitely made it back to his ship."

Hope nodded, her eyes still fixed on the image in her hands. "And you're telling me this… _why?"_

"Germaine is well-known pirate killer," Léon said with a sneer with a dark flame flickering in his eyes, "and he knows your face as Elpis."

That sounded awfully close to concern, but he didn't seem the type to be outright concerned for other people, particularly someone he routinely called a bitch.

Hope looked down at the picture again. She might not have killed Vivienne, but she certainly hadn't been able to save her, a dark part of her mind pointed out and Hope shoved it away foolishly; it was only going to return in the dead of night with all her nightmarish memories of that day. She wondered how Germaine would react if he saw her. Not very well, she presumed, and the dark part of her mind reared its head again, telling her that she deserved anything he could dish out.

"We're even now," he said and Hope scoffed loudly, turning to look at him only to blink in surprise as the space where he'd previously been standing was now vacant, as if it had been all along, the photograph in Hope's hand the only sign that he'd been there.

 _What a complete_ wanker.

* * *

September first found Hope and Remus on a crisp morning, making their way into King's Cross Station, Hope with her arm looped through Remus' arm as he kept his other hand on his cane. Surprisingly, Hope was in considerably higher spirits than she had been recently, but Remus decided to chalk that up to her getting to see her friends all the time now, especially since she was rather vocal about hating being there.

"Are you going to stay out of trouble?" Remus asked her, smiling lightly as they moved around a family that was double checking their baggage.

"Remus, you know I always stay out of trouble," Hope pointed out, rolling her eyes for good measure.

That earned her a snort. "Hope, you've inherited your father's talent for trouble, it's not something new."

Hope pouted and that actually made him laugh as they came to a stop in front of the divider between Platforms Nine and Ten.

"Ladies first," he said, making a polite gesture towards the divider and Hope shook her head with a smile on her lips as she strode forward–

–and crashed right into the wall, falling back against the ground, clutching at her bruised face with a long and drawn out moan of pain. Remus' eyes goggled in his surprise before leaning down quickly to help her up before either of them made a scene.

"What happened?"

"Dunno," Hope groaned, still rubbing at her face, "it's like its solid or something."

"Solid? It can't be," Remus responded, but he still reached out a hand to press it against the divider. It was as Hope had said, completely solid. "The passage must've been sealed somehow…"

"I'm going to miss the train!" Hope bemoaned, checking the clock on the wall. Six minutes left…

But Remus surreptitiously pulled loose his wand and murmured a spell.

"What was that?"

"Notice-me-not charm," Remus said simply. "Hold on tight."

Hope's squeezed his arm with her hand before he twisted on the spot, Apparating them onto the platform and just missing squashing a small first year darting about. He released the spell and a few people blinked at their sudden appearance.

"See?" Remus smiled. "You're not going to miss the train."

"It was a very near thing," Hope responded a bit sourly even as he stooped to wind his arms around her and hold her tight.

"Have a good term," he said, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while Hope buried her face into his shoulder. "Have fun, if you can, and try not to antagonize Professor Snape too much."

Hope grinned as she pulled back, her eyes gaining a devilish glint that was not unlike James'. "No promises!"

" _Hope!"_  Hermione was gesturing towards her from the train and Hope only had a few moments, she gathered, before it would pull away, so she darted forward, stepping onto the train just as it began to start up. "You're almost late! What took you?"

Hope shook her head as the brunette tugged her down the corridor, squeezing past a few other students, waving at Angelina Johnson when they saw her, before finally making their way into the compartment Daphne had secured.

"Talk about being late," Daphne grinned and Hope rolled her eyes, placing her miniaturized trunk above her head and expanding it with her wand. "What, did you take a wrong turn or something?"

"Haha, you're  _so_  funny." Hope flopped down into her seat with an exasperated air, rubbing at her face, practically feeling the bruise forming under her skin. "The barrier was sealed and I walked right into it."

"It was sealed?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows arching high on her forehead while Daphne sniggered to herself. "We got through fine."

Hope shrugged helplessly. "I've got no idea how, but when I tried to get through it didn't work. Remus had to Apparate me inside."

"Maybe it was that house-elf," Daphne pointed out once she'd gotten over laughing at Hope's misfortune. "You know, the one that stole your mail. He didn't want you to come back to Hogwarts…maybe he blocked the barrier to keep you out."

Hope hadn't thought about Dobby in awhile, certainly not since she'd run off to the  _Golden Fleece_. In fact, she'd almost forgotten about him with everything that had happened.

"Maybe," she muttered before turning her attention to Hermione. "Anyways, Hermione, didn't you say your dad was going to talk to your aunt last week?"

" _Ooh_ , yeah," Daphne interjected with eyes practically glowing, "how'd that go?"

Hermione grimaced, tugging on the end of her French braid, slightly uncomfortable with their attention. The relationship between her father and her aunt was one that had prevented her from ever knowing said aunt, but the colourful image her father had given her years ago had stuck with her and Hermione disliked her immensely. Recently, however her aunt had reached out to her father and Hermione rather thought it was like having peace talks with two warring nations.

"It went okay, I guess," Hermione admitted. "Dad thinks she might be trying to get some more money out of him or try to get herself back in his will…apparently she's got two kids around my age that I've never met."

"You know, I've never met this woman, but I don't like her," Daphne decided.

"Big surprise," Hermione grumbled, more to herself than to Daphne.

"Makes me glad I don't have any aunts," Daphne added sagely, jerking her head towards Hope, "Hope got the luckiest with aunts."

"Yeah, but we're more distantly related," Hope pointed out with a laugh, "my biological aunt was a piece of work. That whole family was a mess, to be honest."

The train had completely pulled out of the station and they were now moving swiftly past fields.

"Do you suppose this year is going to be less stressful than last year?" Hope hoped just a bit vainly.

"Less stressful?" Hermione cried. "Our  _OWLs_  are next year, Hope!"

Hope sank deeper into her cushion and Daphne laughed loudly at her expense.

* * *

Day had drifted into night and Ginny tried not to show how anxious she was. She'd almost fallen out of the boat when they'd crossed the Black Lake and now here she was standing with the other prospective first years, listening to the Sorting Hat's song with numb ears, hearing nothing and understanding even less. She could see her brothers sitting over at the Gryffindor table, but she could also see Hope Potter sitting over at the Slytherin table with a blonde girl who must've been one of her friends that the twins had mentioned.

Ginny swallowed.

"Creevey, Colin!"

A blonde boy stumbled through the crowd with an eager smile on his face as he slid onto the stool with the Sorting Hat falling over his eyes. "Gryffindor!" it bellowed a moment later and Ginny flinched.

It was like the tide beating against the shoreline; go with what is expected of you or go where you feel best suited.

Ginny tried to control her breathing, but she didn't think she was doing a very good job as the crowd slowly thinned with other small eleven year olds splitting between the four tables.

"Lovegood, Luna!" The pale-eyed girl that Ginny had once played with as a child made her way rather serenely to the stool before smiling a bit airily as the Hat shouted out: "Ravenclaw!"

They were getting closer to the W's now and Ginny's anxiety was thrown to new heights. She could have a heart attack on the spot and it wouldn't surprise her.

And then, finally:

"Weasley, Ginevra!"

So Ginny swallowed her fears into her roiling stomach and stepped forward and sat down, letting the Hat obscure her view of the hall.

"Ah, another Weasley?" the Hat said, a soft chuckle reverberating against her skull. "I could send you on to your family in Gryffindor, I suppose…or…"

"Or?" Ginny nearly whispered.

"Or I could send you the place that will spur you to new heights, that will suit you the best."

Ginny thought of how disappointed her mother would be and how stunned her brothers would be, but she also thought of Hope Potter, steadfast Slytherin, who had offered her a book on the Founders to help her make up her mind.

Really, her decision had already been made, and the Hat could tell that.

The ripped seam opened and the next word startled the hall silent: "Slytherin!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of stuff going on this chapter, but I always knew where I wanted to end it, it was just getting there that was the problem.
> 
> Slytherin!Ginny has been in the works for quite some time, so I'm glad I finally get to implement it. Léon is a very important character and he and Hope still have a lot of kinks to work out before they're properly friends.
> 
> Vivienne's death is meant to be a tragedy and kind of solidify to Hope that it's not all sunshine and waterfalls, sometimes it's actually really terrible, and it's going to stick with her for awhile.


	22. Mask In Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of excitement about Ginny being in Slytherin, but I should point out this isn't a dark!Ginny fic, it's just one where she's sorted into a House that I think suits her best.
> 
> And I will no longer be answering questions regarding the pairing, which has been stated more than twice since the fic began.
> 
> This fic is very AU at this point, and will continue to be so, since the Horcruxes won't exist in this fic, so hopefully some of the future plot points won't turn you lot completely off to the idea of the fic itself.

Silence descended and Ginny couldn't help but feel like her mouth was filling with ash. Even now she couldn't tell if it was the best place for her, or the worst place. She couldn't even bear to look over to where her brothers were all seated, no doubt staring at her in horror. Ginny wasn't even certain that her heart was beating in her chest when the Sorting Hat was removed from her head and she slipped off the stool to move numbly towards the Slytherin Table. She focused on Hope Potter, mostly because she was the one that extended a few fingers in her direction and made a gesture towards her.

Ginny sat down next to the blonde girl that was clearly with Hope and the Sorting resumed.

"Are you all right, Ginny?" Hope asked her, leaning across the table, green eyes focused. Ginny couldn't help but think the green eyes and dark hair didn't suit her in the slightest.

"I'm f-fine," Ginny practically squeaked, the pink suffusing across her face becoming a thicker red and the blonde beside her chuckled.

"You're the twins' sister, right?" she asked and Ginny swallowed, nodding her head. "I'm Daphne Greengrass, obviously you've already met Hope."

Hope rolled her eyes, a slight smile on her lips, but Ginny couldn't help but think she looked a little pale under her sun-kissed skin.

"How's Thanatos?" Daphne asked Hope suddenly and Hope blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"I don't know, he doesn't visit me a lot," Hope replied. "Why?"

Daphne pursed her lips briefly. "Mum's got friends in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," she said once the last of the students were sorted and food appeared before them. " _Apparently_ …the magical creatures have been getting a bit unruly in the past few months."

Hope frowned. "You mean like…Greek ones?"

Ginny had no idea what they were talking about, but she was content to listen in as she spooned food onto her plate, trying to ignore the stares of the other Slytherins at the table.

"No, that's the  _thing!_  It's  _everyone!_  Its Merpeople and Banshees and Centaurs and Augureys! Maybe the Gates of Tartarus lets Greek monsters out, but what if it also affects other monsters and magical creatures?"

Hope drank her pumpkin juice, a thoughtful expression creasing her brow. Remus was technically a creature and he didn't seem very off to her, but maybe it was different because he was bitten…? "I mean…it's probably possible, but you might want to check with Aunt Thalia and see if it's the same down there, too."

"I think this year is shaping up to be pretty weird," Daphne decided, throwing a smirk Hope's way and she rolled her eyes.

* * *

Léon played with the stoppered jar in his hands, the slightly flattened bullet rattling around inside it. His flintlock pistol only used musket-balls, but others on the ship preferred different weapons, same with the Red Coats.

He doubted that Nomia had really told that protégé of hers what the Red Coats actually were, what they actually did, how many pirates had died at their hands. He doubted she knew just how perilous the sea could be with the Red Coats around. They'd been rather passive until the past few months when their ships had been appearing and slaughtering in the dead of night, coming down hard on those that weren't human than those that were. It made Léon anxious. They were a bunch of territorial bastards seeking to rid the sea of pirates that got too close to things they shouldn't have. The Red Coats had been around a long time, but Léon doubted anyone even knew what their true purpose was, even someone as well travelled as his mother had been.

They were like ghosts that had forgotten what unfinished business they had, or, at least that was what his mother had said when she was alive. She had always been steadfast in keeping him out of view when the Red Coats appeared and Léon could still for the life of him not figure out why.

And he really doubted that Elpis had any way of knowing that a bullet like the one in the jar could actually have killed him. It was the best way to kill his kind.

So, really, Elpis  _had_  saved his life, no matter how much he'd tried to deny it, but what concerned him more was that it was the third attempt on his life in one month.

His grandfather still wanted him to retire, just as much as he'd wanted his mother too.

"You aren't safe as long as there are those seeking to kill you," his grandfather had once argued with his mother, but his mother had been resolute.

"There will always be those seeking to kill others,  _Papa_ ," she had replied. "It is the nature of humans, and it is not the nature of mine to run and hide."

Léon pressed a hand to his brow, the dulled ringing echoing in his ears, overlaid with whispers. What he really needed was a headache potion and figure out a way to quench his –what his mother liked to call– 'creaturely urges'.

The noise made him want to  _scream._

* * *

Hope and Daphne had given Ginny a few pointers before going up to the fourth year dormitory, including the nice little curse Hope had used on the drapes around her bed last year, given the looks Ginny had been getting from her fellow Slytherins, but then Hope found herself lying awake, staring at the area above her bed as she thought about what Daphne had said.

If that was true, then the Gates of Tartarus could act like some kind of irritant to magical creatures, a way to induce aggression in those kinds of creatures. And Hope really didn't like how that sounded.

Her feet itched to move, not to lay around in bed all night, which was definitely something that she should've been doing, given her most recent nights of sleep, but, instead, Hope threw the covers of herself and slid her shoes onto her feet. Her sword was resting under her bed, where she'd put it when they'd been unpacking earlier, and Thalia had always impressed upon her never to be undefended, but she would be fine within the castle, wouldn't she?

But it made her think of that idea, that  _reckless_ idea that she remembered Aggie suggesting, about a good way of finding monsters and sending them back to Tartarus would be to use yourself as bait. Thalia and Galen had shut them both down on that.

 _"The world is dangerous enough,"_  Thalia had informed them shortly.  _"Don't make your lives shorter out of ideas of grandeur."_

But Hope was more doubtful than anything, especially with how she hadn't really dealt with any other monsters besides the Keres that had given her the scar through her eyebrow. There was no way one would just make an attempt and everything else would call quits…unless there weren't all that many out in the world right now. Maybe it took time to get through the barrier, especially since it was only cracks in the Gates, like whoever was trying to crack them open didn't quite know how to do the job.

Hope stepped out past the stone wall that slid into place behind her. Self-preservation was clearly not in her genes, if that hadn't been made painfully clear by the sheer amount of trouble she seemed to get into whenever she seemed to be off on her own. She padded silently across stone, her breathing the loudest thing in the darkened corridor, illuminated only by flames flickering in the braziers.

She'd checked the map she and Hermione and Daphne had made last year before leaving, though it was still tucked safely in her robe's pocket. She still didn't like Hogwarts, not as much as she liked Potter Manor, and, if she could get away with it, she'd probably rather finish schooling away from the castle, but she wasn't entirely certain that was an option, as disappointing as it was.

Moonlight filtered in through stone windows as she walked, casting shadows across the walls as Hope approached the window, looking out of it to the sky above, the stars gleaming and the crescent moon illuminating even as a few thin clouds drifted over to hide some of it from view.

That was when the hairs on the back of Hope's neck stood on end and she tensed. Hope knew that there wasn't anyone out tonight, like there usually was, since it was the first night back and the patrol schedule hadn't actually been given to the prefects and Head Boy and Girl yet…but there was  _something_  there.

The only thing she could hear was her own heart skipping a few beats in her chest, but if she listened hard enough, she could've sworn she'd heard one echoing hers.

She narrowed her eyes, peering out into the darkness, for the first time wishing she'd taken her sword with her.

"Hello?" Hope called cautiously, keeping her voice low as she did so, wary of anyone else who could be out as she was, exploring in the dead of night. And that was when she saw it.

Glowing green eyes and as black as night, padding forward on certain paws; it was a great black dog and Hope could feel its powerful magic brushing against her like a breeze.

Hope blinked and started in surprise, because the next thing she knew it had vanished…like it hadn't even been there in the first place. Maybe Hope should head back down to the dungeons and get some sleep.

She turned around and walked right into someone, causing them to both fall back against the stone floor.

Hope grunted, sitting up to stare at whoever she'd collided with, only to blink in surprise. It was a girl with long straggly blonde hair and eyes so light that they were almost silver in the moonlight. She was wearing a pair of shoes and had radishes dangling from her earlobes, and that was the thing that made Hope stare the most.

"Oh, hello," the girl said mildly with a vacant smile. "I'm Luna Lovegood."

"Hope," Hope offered helpfully, standing and offering a hand to her in order to pull her upright. "Do you usually wander around in the dead of night?"

"Do you?" Luna asked instead, tilting her head slightly.

"Occasionally," Hope replied nonplussed.

Luna kicked a foot up. "I wear shoes to bed," she informed Hope. "I sleepwalk."

"You sleepwalked…all the way  _here?"_  Hope asked dubiously. "What House are you in?"

"Ravenclaw," Luna responded in a dreamy manner that Hope almost wondered if she was still asleep.

Hope looked back to the shadows where she'd seen the black dog, but there was nothing there to be seen, so she simply ran a hand through her hair before pulling the map out of her pocket, unfolding it and looking for where the Ravenclaw common room was located, finding it up two floors on the fifth floor.

"Want me to take you back?" Hope gave the suggestion awkwardly.

"That would be nice," Luna said vaguely, "I am a bit lost."

Hope stifled her amusement, tucking the parchment back into her pocket before leading Luna towards the nearest staircase that wound in a dizzying spiral. Hope had never been up to the Ravenclaw common room, really, the only other common room she'd been to was the Gryffindor one, but she'd never been inside it; the girls preferred to lounge around in Morea's Room than anywhere else. They continued in a tight circle until they came to a stop before something rather like a door, made of oak with a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle, but no knob or keyhole.

"Do you have a password?" Hope asked her in a bit of confusion.

"Oh, no," Luna informed her dreamily, "you've got to answer a riddle. It changes each time, I think."

"What happens if you don't get it right the first time?"

"Then you've got to wait until someone else comes along, it's the only way you learn." Luna smiled vacantly at Hope before rapping her knuckles once against the wood, and Hope couldn't help but stare as the beak of the eagle on the bronze knocker opened wide and a musical voice spoke from it: "Some try to hide, some try to cheat, but time will show we always will meet. Try as you might, to guess my name, I promise you'll know, when you I do claim. Who am I?"

Luna considered it, but Hope's lips twisted upwards. "Death," she said.

"Well reasoned," the knocker agreed, the door sliding open.

"Good night," Luna said to Hope in the same airy manner, giving a light wave before the door shut behind her. Hope shook head with a bit of amusement, turning on her heel only to stifle a scream when she saw the hulking suit of armour behind her bearing the Slytherin coat of arms.

"M-Michael!" Hope hissed, pressing a hand to her heart. "Do you have to do that?"

"Not particularly." A chuckle echoed from within the visor. "Would milady like an escort back to her dormitory?"

Hope pursed her lips in irritation, but she conceded.

"I haven't seen Salazar around," she mentioned as they took the stairs back down in the direction of the dungeons.

"Lord Salazar's spectre has difficulty remaining corporeal for long periods of time," Sir Michael Richmond, the imprint of the Muggle werewolf that had once served the Slytherin family that Hope had met last term, informed her. "I suspect appearing solid so much last year took a lot out of him."

Guilt ballooned inside Hope. " _Oh,"_  she said a bit despondently.

"It's not to blame you, milady," Michael spoke quickly and in her mind's eye Hope imagined a young gangly boy with misshapen armour, a bite scarred against his side, a sheepish expression on his face. "Lord Salazar deserves a nice long rest with Lady Morea, the day is just growing closer and closer, no matter what he wishes, and it's something you need to prepare for."

Hope blinked furiously and averted her eyes quickly. She'd gotten rather used to Salazar Slytherin being around, even though he'd been dead for so long. He was one of the only people in Hogwarts that made the school manageable, and he was so much better than the history books made him out to be.

"What about you?" Hope asked him as they finally came to a stop outside of the stretch of wall that led into the Slytherin common room. "Are you going to fade like him anytime soon?"

"I am an imprint bound to a suit of armour by a seal made in blood," the dryness of Michael's tone was rather clear and amusing to hear. "Until that seal is broken I will remain."

Hope spared him a smile.

"With sharp-edged wit and pointed poise," Michael said suddenly and Hope looked to him in surprise, "it can settle disputes without making a noise. What is it?"

That earned him a grin from her. "What? Are you speaking in riddles, now?"

"I enjoyed riddles immensely when I was alive," Michael lamented. "So? Do you know the answer?"

Hope thought about it for the longest time.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Michael leaned his helmet downwards slightly. "A sword," he said and Hope thought of the one under her bed, leaving her to wonder if he knew about that as well. "Be careful, milady," he warned, "I can sense a darkness brewing."

"Speaking as a werewolf or as an imprint made of powerful magic?" Hope asked archly.

"Both," he said flatly.

"Michael," Hope asked suddenly, thinking of the shadows the spectral dog had emerged from and the story Salazar had told her and the girls last term, "what happened to Adrian after he killed his family?"

She remembered what he'd said about that the day his family had been killed:  _"By the time I reached them, Adrian had gone, leaving only carnage and death in his wake…I caught up with him a month later, but his death was not my doing."_ But he had never said quite how Adrian's death had come about, and maybe it was that even he didn't know.

"That is not my story to tell," the suit of armour said finally, firmly, before moving away and leaving Hope looking after him with a frown before turning to the stretch of wall.

"Purity," she intoned and the stones melted back to allow her within and she traipsed back up the stairs to her bed once more, but she didn't get in it, she wasn't tired. Instead grabbed a leather bound journal that she had found one day when she'd been out with Aggie. It had a few scribblings in it, random thoughts on spells, some of her own thoughts, but it wasn't articulate enough to call a journal or a diary.

She grabbed it and took it back with her to the empty common room and Hope found she always liked the Slytherin common room when there was no one in it, with its rough stone walls and ceiling, the green lamps swaying above her head on long chains, more greenish light coming in through the windows from the Black Lake, where sometimes the creatures of the deep could be seen swimming past. The mermaids gave the worst dating advice that usually resulted in drowning the other half of the relationship, but at least they were a bit more amusing than most of the House.

Hope took up residence on the sofa nearest to the largest window into the Black Lake, curling her legs on one side as she opened the journal. She'd already filled some of the pages with scribbles, some on the shield-markers she'd made with assistance from the Philosopher's Stone, some on theories about the idea she'd had last year about travelling from one place to the other by reflection or gateway, here were a few notes on Keres and some badly drawn sketches, along with quotes, things that Nomia and Remus, or even Daphne and Hermione had said.

Hope took her self-inking quill and etched the time and date onto a page and started to write.

_-With sharp-edged wit and pointed poise, it can settle disputes without making a noise –Sword_

_-Asked Michael about Adrian, but he didn't say how he actually died, but I'd feel awkward about asking Salazar specifically since it's a really painful memory for him. Look up Dark Arts? Maybe side-effects of using Dark Arts are what caused Adrian's madness?_

_-Ginny Weasley sorted into Slytherin, can't imagine Mrs. Weasley reacting well with how F &G had been avoiding talking about how she feels about her sons being friends with Slytherins…which seems kinda prejudiced, but that's just me_

_-Went for a midnight walk and I swear I saw a great black dog with glowing green eyes in the shadows, but when I looked back it'd disappeared. Not quite sure what to make of that. Could've been a hallucination since I haven't been sleeping all that much since V's death, but I'm not so sure._

_-Look up what seeing black dogs means?_

"What are you writing?" came a garbled voice suddenly and Hope startled violently, looking around her but there was no one else in the common room, given that it was past midnight and sane people were usually asleep around this time. "Here," the voice came and Hope twisted around, eyes wide as she took in the face outside the window in the Black Lake.

Hope had seen the mermaids in the Black Lake before, they were less beautiful than their warmer-water cousins, with skin grey and tight with eerie yellow eyes and green hair, knotted and lanky around their faces, grey tails like a shark's. This mermaid couldn't have been more different. Her dark skin gleamed in the underwater light and her eyes were a soft brown. Around her throat was an assortment of necklaces, some looking rather akin to scales, others misshapen stones and jewels. Her tail was a rich fiery orange sort of colour, more delicate and pretty than the other mermaids Hope had seen.

 _"Wow,"_  Hope said before scrutinizing her intently, "you're not one of the Black Lake colony, are you?"

The mermaid's laughter bubbled strangely in the lake. "No, I'm just visiting. My name is Morgane. I saw you on the ship with Nomia, didn't I?"

Hope arched an eyebrow, setting the journal down in order to lean closer to the glass, but she still remembered seeing glimpses of faces under the rolling surf, of mermaids. It wasn't that much of a stretch for Morgane to admit to being one of them. "How d'you know I'm that girl? Maybe it was someone else?"

Morgane smiled lightly. "The scar," she said, but then she surprised Hope by tapping at her eye instead of her forehead. "Your name is Elpis, isn't it?"

"Elpis, Hope," Hope shrugged, "I'm not very particular. The pirates know me as Elpis, though, El, really."

Morgane nodded in understanding before smiling fondly. "Ah, serving on a pirate ship…I haven't done that in decades."

That earned her a look of surprise from Hope. Morgane looked rather young, she could've been in her late teens, early twenties and Hope wouldn't have been surprised, but with how she spoke it was as though she was much older.

"How did you serve on a ship with the tail?" Hope asked honestly and maybe a bit bluntly, and that earned her a wink.

"I'm only half mermaid," Morgane conceded, "I can walk on land if I wish…but if Nomia's mentoring you, you have my sympathies."

Hope glowered and the laughter echoed strangely in the water. But she didn't know exactly how long she stayed in the common room talking to Morgane, but long enough to know that Morgane had once served on a ship that she'd discovered was a part of the Red Coats (Hope wasn't quite sure how something like that could've been missed, but she wasn't going to bring that up) and then she'd abandoned ship, regarding pirate ships with suspicion after that incident. But she appeared to be at least acquainted with Nomia to know how she was which was a bit amusing.

Eventually Morgane had taken her leave to swim off into the lake while Hope trekked back up the dormitories, tying the leather strap around it, keeping it shut before stuffing it back into her trunk and tucking into the bed.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Where did we go wrong, Arthur?" Molly's brown eyes were imploring as they fixed on her husband's over breakfast, the Burrow so still and quiet now that the last of their brood were in Hogwarts now. The letter from Percy was between them. "She's in  _Slytherin_ , Arthur!"

"That's not an all-together bad thing," Arthur pointed out.

The letter had been a surprise, but Arthur had seen her with that book on the founders and asked her about it and Ginny had been very defensive, telling him that Hope had let her borrow it from her personal library. It had been a kindness that surprised Arthur at the time, but this was a girl that was friends with Fred and George, and they had never spoken negatively of her unless it was to complain about her not telling them how her and her friends' pranks had worked.

"There's not a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin," Molly snapped. "I  _knew_  she idolized Hope Potter too much…we should write to Professor Dumbledore, maybe he'll allow her to be re-sorted."

"Molly," Arthur reprimanded sternly, "are you suggesting that our eleven year old  _child_  is on her way to becoming a  _dark witch?"_

"No, of course  _not!"_

"It's not a bad thing to be clever and ambitious," Arthur pointed out, the voice of reason. "I've known many decent Slytherins and, besides, the Sorting Hat sorts people where they are  _best suited_ , there's no changing its mind."

And if he didn't know better, he'd think that she was sulking at how he'd shot her down so fast, but Molly had her own prejudices, much like many in ancient houses, and it wasn't something someone just grew out of, it took time and effort.

* * *

It was when Hermione had received her schedule from Professor McGonagall that she met her friends over at the Slytherin table to compare timetables. By that time, Hope had revived herself with some pumpkin juice and sausages, eyes skimming through a thick tome that neither of her friends recognized.

"Look at this," Hermione complained, "we only get five of our nine classes together this term: History of Magic, Arithmancy, Study of Ancient Runes, Potions, and Defense! That's even less than last term!"

That was probably the most disappointing part, since the three had gotten used to seeing each other in practically every class.

"Maybe there's too many people in our year?" Daphne suggested, frowning over her schedule and comparing it to Hermione's before they were interrupted by a timid voice.

"Um, d'you mind if I sit here?"

Ginny had tried to hide behind her ginger curtain, but she hadn't quite managed it, with her green and silver tie buttoned up to her throat.

"We don't mind," Daphne smiled, eyes gleaming malevolently, flitting about to the obvious space between their group and the rest of the Slytherin table. "There's space. This is Hermione Granger by the way—" Hermione waved helpfully. "Besides, Hope's too engrossed in researching something she saw in a dream."

"It wasn't a dream," Hope sighed. "It was _real_ , it was a black dog with glowing eyes, and—  _found it!"_

Ginny started spooning porridge into a bowl as Hope read out loud from the tome before her.

"Listen to this:  _The Grim, sometimes simply known as a Black Dog, is the name given to an entity found primarily in the folklore of the British Isles. The Grim is essentially a nocturnal apparition, often said to be associated with a hellhound, a powerful supernatural creature that is said to guard the entrances into the Underworld, and its appearance is widely regarded as a portent of death. It is often associated with electrical storms, and also with crossroads, places of execution and ancient pathways, and is generally supposed to be larger than a normal dog, and often has large, glowing eyes_."

She cast a significant look to her friends and Ginny choked on her drink.

"You saw a  _Grim?"_  she asked, too stunned to be shy. "My Uncle Bilius saw one and died a day later!"

Hope blinked and looked to Hermione and Daphne. "Well, death omens and I kind of go hand in hand. I doubt I'm going to die anytime soon, but I don't think Grandfather would tell me if I was on his list."

"Wouldn't he?" Daphne arched an eyebrow. "He likes you."

Hope turned a bland expression on Daphne. "He's not the type to destroy the balance of life and death because he  _likes_  me, there's a natural order to things. Everyone dies, every thread is cut eventually." Everything ends…except him.

They were all distracted by Professor Gilderoy Lockhart flouncing down the aisle to make his way to staff table. Hermione sighed dreamily and Hope's eyebrow twitched.

"I have so much doubt in my ability to take the OWLs next year," Hope sighed, "just from  _looking_  at our new professor." Quirrell had been a fair teacher, but there was a bit of an issue that he had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head.

"That's  _rude!_  Didn't you read all he's done in his books?" Hermione demanded.

"I read the  _Wanderings with Werewolves_  and using the Homorphus Charm to turn the Wagga Wagga Werewolf back into a man is way off, Remus says that although there are different strains of Lycanthropy, that charm wouldn't have defeated a werewolf, it would've turned back on the next full moon; it's  _not_  a cure."

Hermione's face soured, but she couldn't say that Remus' logic wasn't sound, after all, he had helped the three of them skip two years of schooling, and he did have a bit more experience with lycanthropy.

"It's a good thing you dropped those extra electives," Daphne added, noting Hermione's schedule before tugging it out of her hands, astounded. "Why in the name of  _Adrestia_ have you outlined Lockhart's classes in  _hearts?"_

Hermione turned bright red and snagged the schedule back and Hope stifled her amusement into some eggs.

"Are you lot…always like this?" Ginny asked slowly, partially in awe.

"Hope's worse," Daphne informed her slyly and Hope who had been nodding in somber agreement suddenly gave a  _"Hey!"_  "But she's usually more conscious than this. Late night, Hope?"

"I was talking to a mermaid," Hope sniffed, her nose high in the air and Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion while Daphne snorted and Hermione capitalized on the fact that Hope was now being focused on in order to stuff her schedule back into her bag and gulp down some bits of bacon.

"Oh, yeah? Screeching in Mermish?"

"No, Morgane speaks English," Hope wrinkled her nose at Daphne. "She recognized me from when I was on the  _Golden Fleece_." She picked at the end of her tie with a scowl, shutting her eyes quickly at an imagined flash of blue.

Daphne and Hermione shared a glance that Hope missed and Hermione opened her mouth to ask her, but then Hope looked at her watch. "We should probably go," she mentioned to Daphne. "We have Transfiguration in ten minutes. See you in History of Magic, Hermione!" She gave one last little wave to Ginny.

"You'll be fine," Hermione assured Ginny with a smile. "And if people are stupid enough to judge you for what house you're in, well…" She left it open ended, and Ginny wondered if that had more to do with her not wanting to end it with a threat against someone else; Hermione didn't seem the threatening type. And then she disappeared off to her own class, leaving Ginny on her own, with her books and diary tucked into her bag.

* * *

"You know you can trust us, right?"

Hope arched an eyebrow, taking notes as Binns droned on about goblin rebellions, and Hope was starting to think that goblin rebellions was the only subject he had actual knowledge on.

"I mean, you can talk to us about stuff," Hermione murmured at her side. The whole class was either asleep or whispering to one another, Hope doubted anyone remotely cared about their grades in Binns' class, and it was only the  _first day._

"Yeah," Hope said lowly, "I know." She pulled out her journal, drawing an arrow where she'd jotted down a question about black dogs, adding:  _death portent, because of Thanatos or because I'm going to die?_

That would be dramatic, but might as well add it to the list of things she didn't know.

 _Or not a death portent and just my overactive imagination_ , became the third on the list.

Hope doodled constellations into the edges of her notes, trying to focus, and she stuck the quill through her parchment, thinking of blue eyes cloudy with death.

Hermione reached over, her hand stilling Hope's and Daphne leaned around her in concern. "Hope?"

"I'm fine," Hope murmured, shaking out her hands. "It's nothing."

"It's not  _nothing,"_  Daphne hissed, "you've been off since you came back from sailing. Something happened.  _Talk."_

Hope's fingers smoothed over her crown braid, but she didn't open her mouth, practically jumping in surprise when a crumpled ball of parchment hit her arm and she looked over to where it had come from.

' _What?'_  she mouthed at the Weasley twins.

George mimed opening the parchment and Hope uncreased parchment to read:  _How's Ginny?_

Hope sighed and shook her head before writing back:  _Ask her yourself._  She crumpled it up and tossed it, hitting George squarely in the nose and he scowled, allowing Hope a brief smile.

 _You're closer_ , came the reply and Hope arched an eyebrow, a wry expression clear on her face directed to both of them and they gave her identical sheepish smiles.

Hope rolled her eyes, shoving the parchment into her bag just as the bell rang for the end of class.

"Oh, no you don't!" Daphne grabbed her arm and yanked her in the direction opposite the Great Hall.

"You do realize that lunch is in the Great Hall?" Hope asked her dryly as Hermione took up residence on her other arm, which was lucky because just then someone sent a trip hex at her feet and their arms were the only reason she didn't painfully face plant.

There was a rather tell tale cackle and Hope murmured a spell under her breath, extending her wand and she enjoyed the yelp when he was thoroughly trussed up on the floor.

"That's going to get you a detention," Daphne said mildly and Hope chuckled.

"Oh, it's worth it,  _trust me."_

"Well, we're going to the kitchens," Hermione continued, sparing her friend a smile.

"We don't know where the kitchens are," Hope said flatly, but Daphne whipped out the map.

"Good thing we've got this…and I also coerced it out of Fred," Daphne added almost as an afterthought.

Hope laughed and she almost seemed like herself, but she still allowed herself to be tugged along to floor below the Great Hall, stopping outside a painting of a bowl of fruit and Hope watched in fascination as Daphne reached out to tickle the pear, which squirmed in the portrait until it laughed and transformed into a green knob, which Hermione grabbed and pushed Hope inside.

Her eyes were drawn upwards first to the high-arching ceiling that was replicated on the floor above, in the Great Hall, and there were so many brass pots and pans on the walls that it made it difficult to see that the walls were actually made of stone, and there was a large roaring fire in the corner. There were so many house-elves all busily making food and placing them on four wooden tables, the food disappearing in seconds.

Hermione looked particularly uncomfortable, Hope doubted she'd been aware of what was actually within the kitchens. Hermione liked Mindy well enough, but Hope knew that her overly servile way of speaking rubbed her the wrong way and the idea that Hogwarts had so many house-elves looking after it probably didn't help matters.

"Can Ponky help misses?" a sudden squeaky voice asked and they looked down to see a house-elf wearing the Hogwarts crest with dark eyes peering up at them.

"You wouldn't happen to have any Sheppard's Pie and pumpkin juice?" Daphne asked and the next moment the three of them were seated at a small round table, ladling food onto their plates and thanking the beaming house-elves.

"There's something not right about that," Hermione muttered under her breath, into her goblet as Hope played around with her food. "Oh, go on, Hope, tell us what's going on."

"We won't judge, promise," Daphne added.

"I'm not worried about that," Hope said finally, pausing to look at her hands and for a moment they were covered in wet and glistening red blood, but then she blinked and they looked as they always had. "Its…it's just something I haven't really talked about with anyone."

Hermione and Daphne shared a look. "Is it bad?"

Hope chewed on the inside of her cheek before opening her mouth and spilling the details she'd kept so close to her chest. "It was the last day on the  _Golden Fleece_ , I was with Will and Bridger, fixing the sails, and then Bridger said something about a blood moon and Will went to run to Nomia and I was using the spyglass to see if there were any ships farther out."

"Why would it matter what that bloke said about a blood moon?" Daphne asked and Hope paused and stared at her in confusion before it dawned on her.

"Oh, you mean Bridger," she realized, "Bridger's a girl."

"Really? Odd name."

Hope ignored that and continued. "There were two ships firing on each other, the  _Concorde_  and a ship I didn't recognize, but I'd met the  _Concorde's_  captain Léon de Grammont when Nomia took me to the Marina in Sitia."

"What was he like?" Hermione asked with interest.

"He's a French bastard and he should be dunked in the sea regularly, if you ask me," Hope informed her in a deadpan that had both chuckling before quickly sobering. "I…I don't really have a handle on Salazar's Flashing and the next thing I knew, I was on the  _Concorde_  trying not to get skewered and shot. Someone threw an explosion hex in a jar and this girl went flying down the stairs and I went after her, and…she was _bad_  off, but my healing spell wouldn't work and I didn't know what to  _do."_  She looked up suddenly, a wildness to her eyes, the words coming out rushed, in a single breath. Daphne's own were wide and Hermione had brought her hands up to her mouth. "She asked me to stay with her…she didn't want to be alone. Léon told me after that her father actually came down and saw me with my hands covered in her blood, even though he caused the explosion, I can't imagine what he must've  _thought."_

"Her own  _father_  killed her?" Daphne was stunned.

Hope nodded. "I don't know if he even knew if she was on the ship, but…I couldn't save her."

Daphne frowned deeply. "You know, my father is a highly renowned healer…but you can't save everyone."

Hope rubbed at her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She remembered being frozen, Léon and his patience, offering her a rag to clean her hands with.

"He's been developing this theory for years, he calls it the Failsafe, he believes that if your magic knows a spell will be too taxing on you, that it can kill you, it shorts out and won't perform it," Daphne explained seriously. "He's had it happen more than once."

"Really?" Hermione leaned forward with interest.

"You're saying I couldn't have fixed it," Hope said, blinking furiously.

Daphne offered her a hand and Hope took it, accepting the squeeze Daphne gave her. "I'm saying if you pushed too hard, you would've ended up dead, for sure…and I don't think a lot of people would've been able to stay with someone while they died."

Hope pulled her hand back, pushing the heels of her palms into her eyes. Hermione could see her lip tremble and her shoulders shake just slightly. She didn't think that she'd ever seen Hope quite so shaken, not even when she'd shown up at her house with a bandage across her eye, describing the Keres attack as 'terrifying'. "Doesn't stop me from feeling terrible."

"Survivor's guilt."

"What?" Hope removed her hands from eyes, wiping at them again, trying to hide how red they were.

"It's something people can get after traumatic events," Hermione mentioned. "You blame yourself for living when someone else doesn't. There were a few articles in the paper once about it…and I think it's worse if you bottle things up…you can get pretty explosive."

Hope snorted suddenly then. "Just wait until you meet Léon."

"Sounds like you like him," Daphne said, appraising her.

Hope shrugged, drinking a bit of her juice. "He's all right, when he's not being a _complete_  bastard."

"So, you like him," Hermione repeated the words.

Hope sniffed loudly and swept her hair out of her face, rubbing her thumbs over the side of her pointer fingers, almost like it was a nervous tick, but if it was one, it was one that the two had never seen her use before.

"Feel better?" Daphne asked.

"Could use some rum," Hope conceded and Hermione laughed.

"How about food?" Hermione suggested instead, spooning some more Sheppard's Pie onto Hope's plate and pushing it forward with emphasis.

And Hope took it without a thought.

* * *

"Hey, where'd you get the scar anyways?" Lee Jordan asked Hope as their group made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room.

Hope arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching, though looking in far better spirits than she had when the day began. "Got into a fight with a werewolf."

There'd been a lot of circulating rumours when people had noticed the rather obvious scar slicing through her eyebrow, just missing her eye. Hope herself had given a different story to each person that had dared to ask.

"Really?" Lee asked dubiously, before correcting. "Well, I mean, considering it's  _you_ —"

"When did I get this reputation?" Hope demanded and the Gryffindors sniggered while Hermione rolled her eyes with Daphne snorting beside her.

"Probably with the whole Philosopher's Stone fiasco," George commented sagely at her side and Hope frowned.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted."

Fred leaned around his twin to beam at her. "Both, both is good."

Hope pressed a palm to his forehead and pushed him back, much to Angelina's amusement.

"Did you guys hear what Lockhart did with second year?" Alicia asked, linking her fingers casually with Lee in a move that Hope almost certain nearly shorted out his heart. "Apparently he set  _Cornish Pixies_  on them."

"You're  _kidding!"_  Daphne's eyes were wide saucers.

"Maybe he thought it was a good learning experience?" Hermione defended and several heads turned in her direction and she turned pink. "What?"

"Oh, you're like Mum," George realized. "Head over heels in love with Lockhart because of his books?"

Hermione turned beet red. "That sounds really  _shallow…"_

"Welcome, welcome!" boomed a voice as they all reached the room and Hope stared. She had never met Gilderoy Lockhart in person and now that she had…she had some very serious doubts about her grades in DADA this year, echoing her thoughts from breakfast. He was tall, his blond hair shining and in robes of turquoise as he beamed down at them all. Hope decided right away that she didn't like him, especially with his descriptions of werewolves as beasts without thoughts, and she especially didn't like how he'd zeroed in on her, eyes darting from the lightning bolt scar down to her eyes.

Hope wasn't impressed.

"Hope Potter, as I live and breathe," he said, his grin still in place as he held out a hand to Hope and her skin crawled, even as she took it. "What a treat, for you, I imagine!"

"I beg your pardon?" Hope asked coolly as her friends filtered past her, Hermione sighing in an almost theatrical manner while Daphne snorted.

"Come now, Hope," Lockhart chuckled with a winning smile, "you might be famous for one little thing, but I'm an internationally famous wizard with connections and being taught by me will certainly further your own career."

" _My career?"_  Hope repeated, feeling a white-hot rage burning inside. Famous for  _'one little thing'?_  Her parents died because of Voldemort, she didn't think that some arrogant arse had the right to call a double murder 'one little thing'.

"As the Girl-Who-Lived, obviously." Lockhart gave her an almost condescending smile and Hope's lips thinned into a line.

"Excuse me," she said, unable to keep her tone from being too frigid, "but I need to find a seat." And she moved past him before he could stop her, storming into the room and slamming her books onto her desk, dropping her bag with a thump, sliding into place beside Daphne.

Everyone in the room stared, and it was almost full. A few Slytherins made a few disparaging comments under their breath, sniggering in her direction, but Hope ignored them.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked.

"What're my chances of getting away with murder on the first day?" Hope inquired mildly.

"Pretty slim…what'd he say?"

But then Lockhart came sweeping into the room and Hope muttered "Forget about it."

Hope had heard that Neville Longbottom had found himself dangling from the chandelier in the second year class, but she'd thought it was just an over-exaggeration, though now she'd heard Lockhart talk, she was starting to have doubts.

The blond wizard cleared his throat loudly to deter the whispers and giggles from a number of the girls. Hope tried not to look at Hermione when she sighed almost dreamily.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," he said, gesturing to himself, which Hope didn't think was entirely necessary, given just how many moving portraits of himself were around the room. Hope was starting to miss the portraits of curses in action that Quirrell had had when he was teaching. "Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Arts Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—" He gave them a smile and Angelina from across the aisle looked to Hope with an 'Is he serious?' expression on her face. "—but I don't talk about that." This was starting to sound like a rehearsed speech and Hope wondered just how many times today he'd done it.

Hope and Daphne shared dubious expressions. "I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" There were a few trilling laughs. "I see you've all bought a complete set of my books –well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about –just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in—"

"He's kidding," Daphne muttered. "He can't've expected us to read all those books prior to class starting!"

"He's completely  _insane,"_  Hope ground through her teeth. "I'm starting to miss  _Quirrell."_

"You have thirty minutes," he said once the parchments were passed out. "Start –now!"

If Hope wanted to kill him over the comment about how she gained her fame, that was nothing compared to how she felt looking at the questions on the quiz.

It went from  _What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?_  to  _How did Gilderoy Lockhart defeat the Wagga Wagga Werewolf_? ending with  _When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

Hope wrote her name and stewed in her anger and twisted her quill between her fingers. She had the feeling that the whole year was going to turn into an ego fest for Lockhart.

Instead, she flipped to the last page, crossed out the last question and wrote heatedly:  _In Wanderings With Werewolves, you claim that you 'cured' a werewolf of lycanthropy with the use of the Homorphus Charm, when the werewolf would have to have the spell repeated on them every full moon, something that could add a lot of strain on the werewolf, depending on which strain of lycanthropy they possess. If you're going to lie, lie well._

Remus would reproach her for that, she knew, and last year Hope wouldn't have been quite so keen on insulting the professor on the first day, but if every day was going to end up like this…then really, what was the point? Hope and the girls had OWLs coming up next year, and Hope would like to pass them, even if she ended up on a ship in the near future.

It was only when the quizzes had been returned that it was revealed that Hermione had gotten every question right and she turned bright red when Hope had leaned around Daphne to give her a dubious stare.

But clearly he'd learned from the incident with the Cornish Pixies earlier, since the only thing he had them do the full hour was read from his books,  _out loud._

"What're the chances I can drop DADA?" Hope asked gloomily once the bell had rung and she was situating her bag back on her shoulder.

"Slim," George smiled. "But then you wouldn't see our lovely faces anymore."

 _"Cheeky,"_  Hope laughed. "But this is going to be a waste of a class, I can just see it."

"I need to pass my OWLs next term with high marks," Angelina agreed. "High OWLs and high NEWTs for scholarships." Angelina was the orphan of the lot and she went home to an orphanage every holiday, not the best place, but it wasn't the worst either; Angelina had been more appalled by the Dursleys than her own caretakers when Hope had mentioned her duties at Number Four. "I'm thinking Healer, what about you lot?"

Hope shrugged. "Being a pirate's really appealing."

That made the boys laugh but Hermione and Daphne knew it was a bit more than a joke.

"Yeah, I can imagine you with a sword," Fred agreed, recovering slightly.

"I  _do_  have a sword," Hope informed him sourly, and that only made him laugh harder. "You are the absolute  _worst!_  How did we become friends with this lot?"

"I think they kind of wore us down," Daphne contemplated, looking over the Gryffindors. "But the twins are almost as insane as you, Hope, and you know what they say about like-minded people."

_"Oi!"_

The three offended faces turned in her direction earned them a laugh.

"Okay, but, about Ginny—" Fred tried to say, but Hope cut across him swiftly.

"Go and talk to your sister, I'm not playing owl," she said firmly before grabbing Daphne and Hermione's elbows steering them in the direction of the stone courtyard, dodging around a few first year Gryffindors, one of which had their fingers tightly clasped around a camera, before heading over the sprawling green grass. It was still early September, so it hadn't yet cooled down enough to require more than their school robes.

The willow tree that overlooked the Black Lake was Hope's favourite spot outside the castle, and it was always nice to see that no one was around for them to duck just slightly under its low-hanging feather-veined leaves to drop their bags and pull out their Arithmancy books to get started on their homework.

"Did you ever ask your aunt about that thing?" Daphne asked Hope suddenly and she had to pause in confusion.

"What thing?" she asked with Hermione, but then it dawned on her. "Oh,  _that!_  No, I haven't had time…I could call her now, I guess, they're only two hours ahead down there…"

Hope dug around in her bag until she unearthed the small spelled compact mirror. She opened it, saying clearly: "Thalia Blackwood."

For a moment nothing happened and Hermione looked from Daphne to Hope in complete confusion, but, then again, she hadn't really been around during the Sorting, being seated at Gryffindor table, and all.

Then a moment later the compact warmed and Thalia's face reflected in the mirror, looking tired but sparing her niece a smile.  _"Hi, Hope, it must be bad if you're giving me a call your first day of class."_

 _"Hey_ , I'm not in trouble!" Hope complained before grimacing as she thought about cursing Flint earlier. "Well, maybe I'll be in trouble a little later, but that's not why I called!"

Thalia arched an eyebrow.

"Is it possible for the Gates of Tartarus to affect creatures like Banshees, Werewolves, Centaurs…people like that?" Hope asked in a rush, and it caused Thalia to pause and consider her.

 _"Hm…it's entirely possible,"_  Thalia contemplated,  _"of course, we'd have no way to know for sure; I don't think the Gates have been damaged like this before, and there aren't really any records from when it was opened last to compare it to…"_  A thoughtful expression morphed across her face.  _"But there's too many magical creatures to consider, if it's true, and with the Gates damaged that could mean they'd be more prone to violence, which means we should be finding out a way to repair them sooner rather than later."_

"Any leads on the whole fixing thing?" Hope asked mildly. "The persistent threat of death and injury is bad for my health."

Daphne's mouth twisted and Thalia gave Hope a flat stare.  _"I believe the term you're looking for is 'hyper-vigilance', and no, unfortunately not. Records from the previous opening would be the place to start, but, sadly, we're a bit short on that."_  Thalia made a helpless gesture with her hands.  _"Galen and I are working on something, you girls just stay inside the wards, all right?"_

Hope grunted before shutting off the connection. "That didn't stop them from getting inside my wards, and those ones are more powerful," she grumbled under her breath, before flopping onto her back in the grass. "'Stay inside the wards', my arse."

"Because your last run-in with a Greek mythical creature went so well," Hermione poked at the scar and Hope scowled. "I'm just saying, maybe you should keep your head down."

_The Keres with its grey stretched eyes and its ashy form, claws outstretched._

_Vivienne blown back, her abdomen bloodied, blue eyes staring sightlessly._

Hope squeezed her eyes tightly shut, taking a calming breath. The talk with Daphne and Hermione earlier had helped, it had helped  _a lot_ , but she couldn't step aside, not if she could do something to help, even if it was just research.

"Fat chance of that, I'm in too deep now," she complained. "If I could just get some information about the Gates, that could help…"

"Where would you even look?" Daphne asked archly. "Thalia said it was opened before…when was that?"

"I'm not sure when exactly," Hope said, drawing herself up into a sitting position, "but I know that Thanatos' great-granddaughter actually closed it."

"Who was she?" Hermione asked.

"Iolanthe Potter," the name fell from frowning lips. "Maybe there's something at Potter Manor? I don't know, she was newly married into the family, I doubt there'd be all that much on dangerous mythical archways."

"Sounds like you need a lorekeeper."

Hope yelped wildly and Hermione and Daphne whirled around to stare in the direction of the speaker and then pause, looking her up and down. Clothed in what could've only been considered pirate attire, a loose green shirt, breeches, high boots, but her eyes were a near silver, to match the thick scar tissue across one cheek, and hair the colour of the sea.

"Dammit, Nomia!" Hope complained loudly. "Just pop out of every body of water, why don't you?"

Nomia snorted. "You're easily surprised; it's something you should work on."

The boots made squelching sounds as she moved closer and it was only then that either girl noticed she was completely soaked.

"Did you…just come out of the Black Lake?" Daphne asked her blankly as the girl sat down beside Hope, clearly more comfortable with her than the other two. But, if she was the Nomia that Hope had talked about, the naiad that captained the  _Golden Fleece_ , then that would make a lot of sense (and also none at all).

"Yeah." Nomia arched an eyebrow. "I was having a chat with a mermaid…apparently she likes you." That was directed towards Hope, who rolled her eyes for good measure. "Maybe when you find  _the Siren_  she'll like you enough to join your crew."

That made Hope laugh. "C'mon, Nomia,  _me?_  Captain  _the Siren?_  I'm not meant for something like that." She and Aggie had joked about it before, but the ship was lost, it hadn't been seen since it had been retired back in the tenth century.

"You honestly believe that?" Nomia asked derisively with narrowed eyes and Hope leaned back.

"Um," Hermione interjected suddenly, leaning forward with interest –she'd never met a naiad before– as she appealed to Nomia, "you said something about a lorekeeper?"

"If you're looking for information, history, in particular, a lorekeeper is the most knowledgeable, even about subjects some consider forbidden." Nomia looked to Hope, whose brow furrowed in confusion. "Most lorekeepers are druids; it's in their nature to be secretive, and they tend to stay out of wand-carrying politics."

"They're Muggles?" Daphne asked, intrigued, but Nomia shook her head.

"No, they use magic, just not the kind you think of…it's really more like the branch of Earth Magick's that known as Nature Magick. They care more about balance than anything else," Nomia explained. "I only know of one, a man named Con."

"Con?" Hope repeated. It was an odd name.

"But he never agreed to speak with me," Nomia continued. "He said he would only speak with the Earth Witch."

Hope balked when the eyes turned on her. "What  _–me?"_ Using Earth Magick wasn't exactly common in the day and age.

"He never said, but he made that declaration a good twenty years ago and you hadn't even been born yet…he was an odd one, but I assumed that he was just partial to magic similar to his own." Nomia dragged Hope's bag close to her, rifling through it until she found a quill and Hope's journal.

 _"Hey!"_  Hope complained, but Nomia flipped to the back and scrawled out numbers onto the page until they formed a latitude and longitude.

"And I've fulfilled my quota for being helpful to you today," Nomia remarked decisively before standing and moving towards the Black Lake, leaving Hope staring after her.

"What the  _fuck?"_  Hope muttered angrily before standing and ducking under the willow's long branches to follow Nomia.  _"Nomia!"_

 _"The Siren_ ,  _really?"_  Nomia scoffed. "You want to find it, I know you do."

"Well, of  _course,"_  Hope stumbled over her words, "but that doesn't mean I'm  _captain material,_  Nomia! I'm not the leadership type and maybe I shouldn't even be out at sea to begin with! I have responsibilities! To my family!"

"Your family is  _dead."_

Hope reeled back as though struck.

"And you can't be the person they—" Nomia jerked her chin towards the castle. "—want you to be, and that's going to take some time for you to realize, but it's true."

"I know who I am!" Hope suddenly exploded, the fury at the slight towards her family rolling off her in waves.

 _"No,"_  Nomia hissed suddenly, "you don't, and it's going to be awhile before you see it and I hope that when you do, you'll've stopped playing the part others want you to."

"Because being the person you want me to be is so much better?" Hope nearly sneered.

"I don't want you to be anyone except yourself," Nomia threw back, "the problem is, you're too  _content_ playing the heiress, the sharp-tongued little girl with nothing to back up her claims."

Hope forced a calming breath and tried to slow her heart. "I'm not like  _you,_  Nomia. I haven't got everything figured out, I'm surrounded by people that  _hate_  me on a daily basis, I had a Keres try to take out my  _eye!_  I don't  _know_  what I'm doing."

Then Nomia surprised her, pulling her suddenly against her, resting her chin on top of Hope's head as she wrapped her arms around her. "I'm being harsh, I know, but one day you aren't going to be able to hide behind meaningless smiles and Pure-blood politics. This isn't about me and it isn't about what anyone expects of the famed 'Girl-Who-Lived', this is about  _you_ , and pawns can only move one square at a time. So stop  _playing the game."_

"I don't understand," Hope said thickly against her shoulder.

"Not yet," Nomia agreed, pulling back, surveying Hope like she was looking at someone else, a young runaway with light eyes and two swords at her hips. "But you will. And you won't be seeing me again until you do."

 _"Nomia!"_  Hope uttered her name aghast as the naiad vaulted back into the lake, but she didn't resurface. Nomia had always been rather big on that, Hope being herself, but Hope had been pretending too long, she wasn't even sure what that meant.

 _"Do you always do what people expect?"_  Léon had asked her and she'd been certain with her answer, but now…

She was a Metamorphmagus that almost always wore her hair as black as her father's and eyes as green as her mother's, never bothering to change her appearance, even when people so often mentioned how much she looked like them, something she didn't like. She was an heiress that had learned how to operate in Pure-blood society, how to smile through her teeth, how to curtsy, how to hold a cup of tea, how to play violin…and she didn't like any of it.

 _Gods below_ , she'd made herself a mask and she hadn't even realized it.

* * *

Pictures slid out of the envelope, most containing two young girls, one a red-head and the other a girl with lighter hair but obvious scars across her face, though a few contained an older woman with short red hair and a young boy in the cusp of becoming a man with dark hair and eyes. And for one of the girls, the mark of the Keres was clear as day, but clearly it hadn't finished the job.

Eyes lingered on the other girl, the red-head. Maybe she was a more suitable target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book two is kind of Hope's coming of age book, and a lot of stuff goes on, some of which will be setting up future conflicts, which I'm looking forward to a lot. The chapter was really Muse-centered, which I enjoyed, and Hope finally talked to someone about Vivienne.
> 
> Hope and Nomia's fight was supposed to happen later, but, ah well. I still adore them, but Nomia hates when Hope plays the part of heiress when she doesn't like it.


	23. Tree of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go back and add a few details to the end of last chapter to make it a bit more obvious, but Ginny was not the girl in the picture; she and Hope have hardly spent any time together to be photographed together.
> 
> A lot of curiosity about the black dog Hope saw, don't worry, you'll see more of him ;)
> 
> Hope does not have a crush on Leon; Hope cares more about magic than romance, she's pretty asexual, that's how I envision her, and I'm headcanoning George as demisexual, there've been a few posts about demi!George on tumblr. Its only when she gets really flustered that you'll need to pay attention.

Hope ended up in detention late on Friday evening for her  _Incarcerous_  to Flint on the first day of class, and she still couldn't bring herself to regret it, and it was nice that she'd be serving it with Professor Sprout, but that didn't save her from class with Snape that afternoon.

She spent the whole class period hissing insults under her breath that she was starting to vaguely sound like a snake, ironically, as she worked over her Wit-Sharpening Potion. She didn't think it was possible, but somehow Snape had gotten even  _more_  bad-tempered since last term and, as usual, she was the prime target once more. The only upside was that the Slytherins could never blame her for losing any points, because she never did; Snape would rather give her endless detentions than take points from his own house.

Hope was well on her way to becoming famous for the sheer number of detentions she served rather than being the Girl-Who-Lived, which would've been really impressive if it didn't give Hope such a huge headache.

Fingers clutching a knife diced ginger root perhaps a bit too angrily, but everyone was far too focused on their own work to comment on the low sound.

Hope had been in a rather bad mood all week, truth be told, ever since Nomia had dropped her bombshell and left Hope feeling like she'd been dumped without being dating in the first place, which was even more off putting since romance was of little interest to her. She'd like to think that Nomia was wrong about her, about everything, but Hope knew better than that. Nomia was as sharp as a blade and she wasn't afraid of cutting people if she had to; gods knew she'd done it to Hope enough times when she was training her with the sword.

On one hand, Hope understood, on the other hand, she was  _seriously_  pissed off, but it didn't make Nomia any less right, which was the worst part about it.

Nomia certainly earned her title as the Demon of the Sea, that was for sure.

Hope nearly poked her own eye out with her knife before tossing in the ginger and giving the potion a clockwise stir, and it was then when Snape, striding between potions and marking them down for perceived mistakes, but Hope knew better; the Gryffindors always seemed to do worse than the Slytherins, and some of the Slytherins were downright terrible potioneers.

He sneered. "Tell me, Potter, can you read?"

Hope's lip curled as she lifted her eyes from the lime-coloured potion to look at her Head of House. "Yes," she responded with as much chill in her voice as she could manage, her fingers drawing tight over the silver knife.

"Tell me, what does that say?" He pointed to the chalkboard and Hope glanced that way. It was how the potion was written in Magical Drafts and Potions but Hope had some time before school had started to go through the potions in the book and the notes that Fleamont Potter had made in his own copy, adding his corrections to her own.

She arched an eyebrow. "Did you need help reading your own writing?"

There was a titter of noise at that and Hope thought she heard the distinct sound of the twins trying to bury their amusement by stuffing their fists into their mouths.

"Detention might curb your tongue," he said.

"Not likely," Hope said flatly. She could imagine Remus' face, especially when he'd told her to try at playing nice with Snape, even though they hated each other so much. There were so many days where Hope contemplated coming to class looking identical to her mother to see what he would do, but she thought that was a bit too cruel.

His eyes were black and unfeeling as they looked on her. Thanatos' were a great deal warmer, something that Hope found to be a bit ironic, but she'd take Thanatos' eyes any day over Snape's. Hope's own eyes filtered black as onyx in response, darker than Snape's could hope to be.

He vanished her potion and tacked a spiky zero next to her name on the parchment in his hands. "Your potion was incorrectly made."

"The book was incorrectly written," Hope retorted, her bad mood with everything that had happened with Nomia compounded with being in a class with someone who clearly hated her just as much as he'd hated her father, if Remus' stories about their rivalry was completely accurate. She knew there was nothing wrong with the potion, it was the exact consistency and colour that had been listed in the book and Hope was honestly going to start keeping a record of every time he vanished her potion without provocation.

"Detention, Potter," he said shortly and Hope was so desensitized to punishment at this rate that she didn't even blink. She just pulled her journal out of her bag and scrawled a heading on a new page that said: Supposed Potion Failures. She dated it and wrote 'Claimed that Wit-Sharpening Potion was incorrectly made without saying where I went wrong when consistency and colour were identical to description in book'.

"Seriously, you are on a roll," Hermione said with her eyebrows creased once the class had let out. "Two detentions in one week?"

"I'm having a bad week," Hope grunted around her quill as she shoved her journal back into her bag.

"I never figured you for a diary-writer," Daphne grinned at her side and Hope rolled her eyes.

"It's not a diary, it's a journal, _big_  difference," she pressed, though, from the looks on their faces, they didn't much believe her. "Besides, I needed somewhere to put all my ideas or I'm going to forget them."

Daphne considered her briefly. "Are you still interested in that travelling through mirrors thing?"

"Well, yeah, but I think I have to make a few changes to it," Hope grumbled in true disappointment. " _Making_  a gateway might be easier than  _finding_  one…what if I'm running around and can't find a puddle to jump into?"

"Are you planning on running around?" Hermione asked archly.

"I'm just saying, it's a  _possibility!"_

There was a sudden flash before Hope's eyes and she had to blink harshly in order to see a very small, very short first year wearing the Gryffindor colours.

"Hiya, Hope!" he chirped. "I'm Colin Creevey, I'm in Gryffindor."

"That does explain some things," Hope muttered under her breath. She would've thought oncoming students would've been warned against talking to Hope by now. Apparently she had an unapproachable aura, if the other students were to be believed. Hermione knocked her elbow against Hope's side. "Hello," Hope added shortly.

"I hope you don't mind," Colin said, continuing on, his eyes shining a bit more brightly than previously, making a gesture with his rather bulky camera. "It's to prove that I've met you, I'm sending a bunch back to my dad, he's a milkman, you know, a Muggle, like all our family's been until me. No one knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till we got my letter from Hogwarts. Everyone just thought I was mental!" It took a special kind of person to be that positively bright about being thought of as mental.

"Well, that's great and all," Hope said almost blandly, "but I've got class, so I've got to go—" She abruptly moved past him with her two friends tailing after her.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Because that wasn't subtle at all," she reproached.

"Hero worship is… _weird,"_  Hope grimaced. She'd had enough of that whenever someone randomly recognized her or when new students stared at her face too long, looking from the lightning bolt scar to the one that stretched through her eyebrow. It was a kind of attention she'd never wanted. "Besides, I've got detention with Sprout, catch you later!"

She waved over her shoulder before taking the nearest staircase down.

"Is it just me or is she almost excited to be in detention?" Daphne asked.

"It's Herbology," Hermione sighed, "at least she's sleeping better."

Daphne made a conceding sort of nod before looping her arm with Hermione, both heading off to the library.

* * *

"You seemed a bit out of sorts this week," Professor Sprout mentioned lightly to Hope as she placed her hands gently into a large bowl of water in order to carefully remove one of the Gillyweeds from within. It looked like a bunch of slimy grey-green rat-tails and it felt even weirder, and Hope barely knew about what it did from their classes that week.

Hope placed the first one into the container beside her. "Someone just…told me something I didn't really want to hear," Hope admitted.

Professor Sprout tilted her head back, her lopsided witch's hat unable to hide the smudge of dirt on her cheek. "You don't seem very happy about it," she mentioned carefully like she didn't want to overstep any professional bounds.

Hope thought about Nomia with her scarred cheek and her hair the color of the sea.  _"_ _You can't be the person they want you to be, and that's going to take some time for you to realize, but it's true."_

"Did you…did you ever feel like there was someone who knew you better than you knew yourself?" Hope asked with a rather long pause.

Professor Sprout's fingers stilled in tilling the earth in one of the pots. "Sometimes it's easier to see others as they are when they are determined to be otherwise."

"You sound like my uncle," Hope grumbled and Professor Sprout laughed. She didn't like to play favourites, but she certainly enjoyed Hope's lack of filter and love of plants. Hope heaved a sigh. "I'd rather be sailing than stuck in a school all day." She did miss the sea, even after what had happened to Vivienne, she missed how the ship swayed under her from the waves, the smell of the salt water.

"I think most students would be rather somewhere other than school," Professor Sprout chuckled.

Hope pulled another Gillyweed free.

"I believe that you should always be the person you want to be," Professor Sprout added. "No one else should get a say in that." She squeezed Hope's shoulder comfortingly before tutting to herself. "Oh, dear, I've gotten some dirt on you, give me a 'mo…" She whipped out her wand and vanished it in seconds. "And once you're done with the Gillyweed, would you be a dear and start on the Bubotubers?"

Hope bobbed her head before setting the bowl with just the roots of the Gillyweed aside and cleaning her hands before starting again.

* * *

" _That_  was uncalled for."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Nomia admitted, pressing her bow against the maps spread across the table, "but, I'll admit it wasn't my finest moment."

Brizo ran her fingers through Nomia's brightly-coloured hair. "Elpis  _idolizes_  you and you practically ran a sword right through her."

"Sometimes the truth hurts," Nomia conceded, lifting her head and leaning it back into Brizo's touch. "She was too content playing the part rather than being herself. I thought a sharp shock was the best way."

"Or cutting off a limb?" Brizo asked wryly before her eyes caught something resting on the chest against the wall. "Is that made of Cerastes skin?"

"The Cerastes that El decapitated was left behind after it took a sword to the neck," Nomia said, frowning over at it. "The meat, horns, and blood are worth a fortune and it was El's kill so—"

"But you had the skin made into a tunic?" Brizo arched an eyebrow as Nomia attempted to appear impassive. "You've got a soft heart."

Nomia scoffed loudly. "Maybe I just think she has the potential to get seriously injured. Cerastes skin is some of the toughest in the world."

Brizo's lips twisted wryly. Cerastes skin could stop a blade and she knew from Nomia that Nelda had always lamented about not having any; some Cerastes skin might've saved her life. "But she won't only have Cerastes to contend with."

"She can handle herself," Nomia said quietly, her thoughts distant. "She'll be fine."

Brizo's fingers tapped against the wood of the table that the maps were spread across. "I like to think I know Thanatos fairly well," she admitted after a long moment, earning her a befuddled stare from Nomia. "Three is a very mythical number, especially for Thanatos, everything comes in threes; three sons, three deathly skills, three gifts of death."

"What're you going on about?" Nomia asked.

A sigh parted Brizo's lips. "There are three descendants of Thanatos relatively close in age, one of which has already displayed the ability of umbrakinesis, manipulating shadows as Thanatos does, and the other two will follow, both more dangerous than the first."

"Are you trying to tell she's going to die a painfully short life?"

" _No,"_  Brizo said flatly, "but at least two of Thanatos' children died young and his lover perished tragically, unfortunate events have long since occurred in Thanatos' line even before he was a part of it…I worry what happens when your protégée has no one to guide her and  _ground_  her."

Brizo had never looked at her like she did now, not even with the chaos Isolde had caused, the carnage she had left behind, she had never looked at her like she thought Nomia had made a terrible decision.

* * *

It was a strange way to spend their Saturday morning, that was for sure, but if Hope wanted to find some druid named Con, then they weren't going to let her do it by herself; Hope alone was just going to lead to all sorts to trouble, that was for sure.

Really, Hope had no idea where they got these assumptions.

"Remember the last time you were off on your own?" Hermione asked sagely. "A sea battle between pirates!"

"I wasn't  _alone_  with that," Hope grumbled under her breath, a frown forming on her lips. Her nightmares of Vivienne's death were now fewer in number and growing farther in between, which was about the only upside to her situation.

They were all dressed in jeans, looking like a group of girls that were going hiking not searching for a druid. Mindy had taken Hope's request with a bit of befuddlement, but had said that she couldn't take them all the way.

The morning was crisp and the sunlight shone down on them.

"Why couldn't Mindy take us the whole way, again?" Daphne inquired a bit breathlessly, her feet aching in her shoes, taking a swig from her almost empty bottle of water. She didn't do as much walking around, something she was going to have to rectify at a later date. Hope did a bit more walking around the Potter Lands, and how Hermione was managing better than the two of them was honestly a miracle.

"She didn't really say," Hope said, pulling out the map to where she'd designated Nomia's coordinates. Dolgellau, Wales was a small town, that was to be sure and they'd only just reached the sign that proclaimed:  _Welcome to Dolgellau!_

Hermione's eyes were drawn upwards. "Maybe it's that," she pointed out and the other two looked to where she was pointing.

Pale eyebrows furrowed together as blue eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the general area. "I'm not seeing anything," Daphne admitted and Hope shook her head in bemusement.

"Here—" Hermione grasped Daphne's wrist and tugged her towards her, having her stand where Hermione had been a moment ago. "Look right there, do you see it?"

Hope frowned in the same direction, coming to stand next to Daphne as well, following Hermione's finger, but there's was nothing. Yet, clear to Hermione eyes was a sort of mirage, like someone going between looking through glasses to not, almost like a domed snow globe.

"It's like a dome," Hermione said, blinking a few times to look to her friends. "Can you really not see it very well?"

"Not at all," Daphne had narrowed her eyes so much that she was practically squinting. "Is it easy for you?"

"Yeah." Hermione appeared rather startled at the prospect. Of course, she liked to think of herself as fairly perceptive, even given who her friends were. Hermione didn't have a drop of godly blood in her veins, she wasn't related to any founders or dark lords, and yet here she was seeing a barrier invisible to her friends' eyes; she wasn't sure if that should make her pleased or worried.

"Am I touching it?" Hope asked suddenly, extending her hands forward, walking right through the almost transparent film.

"You just walked through it," Hermione admitted wryly.

Daphne stepped after Hope, making the same motions, but she had no trouble either; it was like the barrier wasn't even there. "C'mon, Hermione."

Hermione took a step forward, looking on the asphalt road to where her feet were, a few inches from where the barrier started.

"What's wrong?" Hope asked, her brow furrowing as Hermione lingered.

"What if because I can see it, I can't cross it?" Hermione wondered, unease flickering in her eyes.

Hope and Daphne shared a look.

"Well, you won't know unless you try," Daphne conceded, holding out a hand to Hermione and the brunette sighed, taking her hand and yelping as Daphne yanked her through the barrier that she couldn't see and Hermione stumbled, looking behind her to where the nearly-transparent dome ended. "See, you're fine."

Hermione glared.

Dolgellau was a quaint sort of town surrounded by a forest with moss climbing up the side of the buildings. There were people bustling about, some with produce in bags hanging off their arms, others with friends, laughing. It was much busier than any of them had been expecting.

"This guy's name is Con, right?" Daphne said, looping her arms with Hope's and Hermione's walking together. "A druid? Do we just ask around for a guy named Con? It's not a common name."

Hope wasn't listening, she was focused ahead. " _Shh,"_  she whispered, looking ahead, her eyes filtering into a bright glowing green, blinking them a few times as she intoned: " _ **Máti estíasis."**_

The world bled blue and Hope could see a light trail before them. "This way," she said suddenly, dragging them forward, keeping her eyes down carefully so no one would be able to see their eerie glow.

"You sure you know where you're going?" Hermione asked as they rounded a bend and both had to tighten their grips on Hope's arms to keep her from walking into the street as a car drove out. "We could always ask someone—?"

Hope came to a sudden stop, almost tripping her friends as she did so. The glow at her eyes faded, returning them to the dark colour she usually wore when not at school, fixed on the shop. The sign proclaimed 'The Tree of Life' under a Celtic swirl, and they could see an assortment of herbs and spices within. "Seems kinda druid-y, right?"

Daphne snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes.

The bell at the door rang as Hope pushed the door open and the three girls stepped inside. The first thing that hit Hope was the smell, the scent of so many herbs and spices on the air.

Hermione sneezed.

Hope's eyes drifted from the jars of herbs and spices to the bundles of dried herbs, to the tea mixtures, to the Celtic symbols carved into the walls. It was beautiful in a rustic sort of way, like it was a place you'd expect to find walking around in a forest. Hope's eyes were drawn to the symbol on the western wall, a triple spiral. She trailed her fingers over the carving.

"The triskelion," hummed a deep voice behind her, "not a bad choice."

Hope turned in surprise to see the one that had spoken. He was an impressive sort of man in a way that Hope hadn't expected. Soft brown eyes, skin the colour of a walnut tree, a tattoo of what appeared to be a tree spreading from the back of his bald head to have small detailed branches resting at his temples and at the edge of his cheeks.

This, Hope was certain, was Con.

"What does it mean?" Hope asked him, acutely aware of Hermione and Daphne creeping back to her side.

"The triple spiral?" the man presumed. "It has different meanings depending on who you ask…life-death-rebirth, past-present-future, earth-sea-sky, creation-protection-destruction, some believe that it resembles the three aspects of the Celtic goddess, the Morrigan, with her power of death, war, and fate…but I did know a woman who attributed it to an old Buddhist saying."

Hope arched an eyebrow.

"Three things cannot long be hidden: the sun, the moon, the truth."

"Deep," Hope said mildly.

"I rather think so," he agreed, giving her a kindly smile. "Hello, I'm Con, you must be Nomia's newest protégée."

Hope frowned at the 'newest'. "Newest protégée? You mean because she trained Léon de Grammont before me?"

The name had Con pausing in startled surprise that stretched his eyebrow high on his forehead. The name de Grammont was quite famous, from what Hope could gather, if people knew the name Potter and Slytherin in Wizarding circles, in contrast, de Grammont was known to pirate circles. The name had been made famous by the first French pirate of the line, Michel de Grammont, who had fallen out of favour after killing his sister's suitor. Nomia had laughed when she'd told Hope that story, because, apparently, his sister had asked him to kill the suitor, since men in general weren't her type and she wasn't as versed in poisons to kill him without notice.  _"Of course,"_  Nomia snorted,  _"Cendrillon de Grammont came to be known as the Poisoner, so really they both won didn't they?"_

"de Grammont?" he repeated. "As in Médée de Grammont? The Wailing Woman?"

Not every pirate had a name they were known by, and rarely did they gain one when they were virtually unknown, like Hope was, really being known as Serpent Tongue was a complete fluke, simply for the language she had spoken when she cut off the Cerastes' head with a single slice (or maybe it was just because she had killed a snake creature?). William had said with a laugh that it was because the other name they'd considered for her was taken, but he had never elaborated on it.

"His mother," Hope admitted, frowning thoughtfully, remembering Nomia mentioning her once, "I think she died a few months back…" She couldn't even begin to comprehend the emotion that clouded his eyes. "Did…Did you know her?"

Con blinked, as if righting himself. "I –yes, once upon a time, we were…friends." He heaved a heavy sigh, his back ram-rod straight and tensed, like he was struggling not to show the emotion seeking to bleed out of him. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly as if just realizing that they were there. "Who are you?"

"I'm Elpis Slytherin," Hope said and Daphne arched an eyebrow behind her head, "everyone calls me El, and this is Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger."

Con's dark eyes flicked between them. "It's been several months since I last had a Godling in my little shop, even longer since I had two."

Hope blinked and Daphne was completely befuddled. "Godling?" she queried.

"Those with blood of the gods," Con said carefully, "even a single drop of godly blood keeps you from being considered human by any standard."

"Oh, that's  _nice."_

Con's eyes flicked over Hermione and she felt uncommonly like she was being analyzed. "You're human," he remarked, though he sounded a bit confused by it.

"Is that… _bad?"_  she asked.

"No," Con said finally, "just a bit confusing." He turned away before Hermione could question him a bit further on it and the three girls shared a befuddled glance as he flipped the sign on the door to say closed before gesturing for them to follow him into the back room.

"Are we sure we can trust him?" Daphne hissed under her breath. "He didn't ask about the whole Earth Witch thing that Nomia talked about."

Hope opened her mouth, but a mild voice spoke from beyond them. "I'm guessing Elpis Slytherin, there, hasn't gotten to learning to shield her magic yet, which makes it easier to tell the kind of magic she uses."

Hope's cheeks burned with colour as she rubbed at the back of her head in embarrassment. Con gave her a small smile. "Come on back, I have tea."

Daphne retained her suspicions, though. Hope was the one with zero self-preservation, but Daphne was the cautious one who liked games of strategy, and they barely knew anything about this man, this strange man who Hope's friend –and she used the term loosely after the spat the pair had had– had suggested her to if she wanted answers.

The back room was cluttered with herbs mostly, and the girls could see a few jars with Celtic symbols on a few shelves. It was about as close to the mental image that Hope could've had about what the room would've looked like, prior to them stepping into the back, but that was what kind of shop it was.

"Nomia said you'd only talk with an Earth Witch," Hope probed as Con pulled out the teapot, piping hot.

"I admit that rule was made out of bitterness and pain," Con conceded, pouring the tea into four differently shaped cups. "But my last experience with a Sea Witch and a pirate went rather terribly." He didn't draw attention to it, but Hope could see evidence of part of a burn light against his skin. She was sure that if his sleeves were rolled up all the way it would be as obvious as the one on her forehead. "I don't know Nomia as well as others, but she was a close friend to an ancestor of mine so occasionally she checks up on me." He gave a bemused smile at that.

Hermione was slightly aghast, remembering how the girl who had stepped out of the water had looked, young and scarred, a bit like Hope in that respect. "How old is she?" Hermione couldn't help but balk.

"At least one thousand years, but she'd never say," Con's chuckle disappeared into his cup of tea.

"Nomia said you were a druid," Hope said carefully after a short silence, "a…lorekeeper?"

"It's the most apt term." He gave her a serene smile and Hope had to wonder if he was ever anything but calm, or if that was just part of the magic, but his voice was deep and reassuring and with a patience that would've served Hope's school teachers before Hogwarts well. "Not all Druids keep the lore, but you'll find that many do, focusing on certain parts of history in particular, for me, the focus has always been Greek and Celtic history, simply because it's what interests me the most…and that's probably the reason Nomia sent you to me in the first place, yes?"

Hope thought about the knowing expression Nomia often wore, eyes too old for her young body. She'd known about the Gates of Tartarus, that much Hope was certain of, but she, like everyone else in Hope's life, liked to watch Hope flounder trying to find things out on her own. She'd given Hope the means to find the answers to the questions she sought without giving her the answers outright.

"You know about the Gates of Tartarus…don't you?" Hope's eyes narrowed and Con gave her another serene smile.

"Certainly more than most," he agreed. "But I'm not surprised it's what you're here about." He made a gesture to his own eye where he was no doubt indicating the scar on Hope's own. It had long since healed, though still occasionally burned white hot, not like the lightning bolt on her forehead, it rarely pained her, and even then it hadn't felt quite so intense. "The Gates are dangerous, volatile, with an insatiable appetite."

Hope got a shiver down her spine just listening to that description.

"You talk like they're alive," Hermione pointed out, her brow furrowed and her hands clamped around the cup of tea like it was the only thing keeping her warm.

"In some ways they are," Con conceded. "These Gates are incredibly old, even ancient by human standards. They were made by gods and titans, you can't consider them as ordinary as you would a pair of wrought iron gates. They were made to contain all the evils the gods had created, not unlike Pandora's Pithos—"

"I thought it was a box," Daphne muttered under her breath, but Con continued much like he hadn't been interrupted.

"—but Pandora's Pithos contains spirits not monsters. The Gates are literally that, when opened they form a –shall we say– a breach between the mortal world and the deepest, darkest part of the Underworld, Tartarus, that allows the monsters imprisoned there free to roam the earth. Luckily for you, they aren't open."

"Luckily?" Hope's throat was dry. "How is that lucky?" She still woke up to the feeling of the Keres' claws at her throat, fear stifling her scream.

"There'd be more monsters roaming around, right?" Daphne guessed, before taking a quick gulp of scorching tea. "More deaths in the papers?"

"Have there been deaths in the papers?" Hermione demanded, eyes wide and horrified.

Hope glanced to Daphne and both shrugged. "I don't think so…Aunt Thalia did say there'd been a few close calls…" Fatally close, if recent news was to be believed. There'd been a brutal mauling in Brighton that many attributed to werewolves despite the evidence contrary. There were several more anti-werewolf laws being proposed and Hope sometimes wished she was as bull-headed as Nomia in making people see sense.

"Not yet," Con spoke sagely with a tone that gave Hope the feeling that if more monsters got through the cracks, there would be less close calls and more deaths.

"Do you know how to fix the Gates?" Hope asked, eyes narrowing as she scrutinized him.

"Unfortunately not," the druid informed her regretfully. "That knowledge lies with the dead. I know a great deal, but I don't know everything." Humble, Hope noticed.

Now it was time for Daphne's turn. "And the Gates, do they have an… _effect_ on…monsters?"

That caused Con to consider her, before his eyes flicked towards Hope. "Hm…monster is often synonymous with non-human…I assume the two of you have been having nightmares or headaches?"

Black and blue eyes widened in surprise, twisting to look at the other.

"Headaches," Daphne admitted.

"Nightmares," Hope agreed hollowly.

"It can agitate non-humans, that much is true. Some feel it more acutely than others…I'd count myself lucky that it's only headaches and nightmares," he said, taking a drink of his own tea and leaving Hope more curious than before.

* * *

They ate lunch in the village at a small and quaint café that offered a divine Sheppard's pie that Hope picked at only just, her thoughts miles away to the last thing Con had said before they had parted.

"If you ever find yourself in need of me, whether it be information or healing, Elpis Slytherin, simply call," he said and Hope wasn't quite sure in what manner he meant for her to call, "but I believe it would best serve you to figure out the scores of monsters you might find yourself dealing with rather than waiting for them to strike." He had nodded towards the scar on her eyebrow and Hope had felt a flush of shame rising in her cheeks.

"What're you thinking about?" Hermione asked her, noticing her not eating much of her food.

"Monsters, mostly," Hope admitted, still looking far off. "Can you imagine dealing with more Keres? I mean, one was enough and it almost took out my  _eye!"_

"Maybe the next one will claw at your arm," Daphne responded with an arched eyebrow. "It sounds really serious, Hope, maybe you should try to keep out of trouble for a change."

"That didn't stop us last year with the Philosopher's Stone," Hope pointed out with a frown.

Hermione pursed her lips before taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. "That was different though, wasn't it? These are monsters out for  _blood."_

"Quirrell tried to kill me on Voldemort's orders," Hope intoned flatly.

"He was a bad guy, but he was  _human,"_  Daphne interjected and Hope drummed her fingers against the table.  _But we're not,_  ached on her lips. Con had called them  _godlings_ , a term that Hope wasn't familiar with but was sure had to do with her and Daphne's godly ancestry. The more Con had spoken the less Hope realized she knew about the world. He was like the opposite of Dumbledore, who chose to hide in his secrets and try to manoeuvre the pieces on the chessboard in the direction he wished; Con let the pieces move on their own and offered guidance and advice when it was sought and needed without a thought to secrets he might divulge.

"You've got a strange look on your face," Hermione mentioned, eyebrows arching high on her forehead. "What're you up to?"

"Research," Hope grinned widely.

* * *

Hope had detention in an hour and she was sulking. She still hadn't found a book in the library that mentioned anything remotely close to something like  _'godlings'_. "How hard is it to find a book on godlings?" she grumbled to herself in aggravation, moving past a few slow sixth year Hufflepuffs before she caught sight of a figure in black robes without a house crest. "Salazar?" she barely murmured the questioned name, but he'd rounded the corner, and Hope, on quickly moving feet, followed.

He took to the stairs and Hope followed him, breathless with how many stairs they went up, until she lost him on the seventh floor landing. The corridor was deserted, empty and cold unlike the warmth below, and Hope breathed out a groan.

"Just typical," she muttered to herself.

She felt lost and confused, trying to keep her head above water when something was dragging her under. Nomia would no longer speak with her, Salazar could barely keep a physical form from maintaining it so often last year in teaching her how to properly use her Earth Magick, and there was only so much Hope could bring herself to ask of Thalia.

Hope turned around and almost went back but she changed her mind. She must have paced one too many times, because the next thing she knew, a highly polished door had appeared on the wall with a brass knob, and Hope was absolutely certain that it hadn't been there a moment ago.

If she'd had the map she, Daphne, and Hermione had made of the castle last term, she would've pulled it out to check and see if the door in front of her led to a room on the map, because she had a feeling that it didn't exist on the map.

_What was the worst that could happen?_

Hope grasped the knob firmly and twisted to enter the room, the dimly illuminated room. It was, for the most part, empty, and most of the light was directed at a small bookshelf with only a books present on the shelf and gathering dust. Hope approached to inspect the books closely:  _Ancient Creatures of the Unknown, Monsters: Myth and Magic, Forgotten Ancient Creatures of the World._ Only three books on the shelf in a room that Hope hadn't even known to exist; it was eerie to say the least.

She shoved all three into her bag when she realized she needed to get back to the Transfiguration classroom for her detention, but when she turned around there were more things in the room: spiky scythes that looked like a slice would easily take off someone's arm, sharp-edged spears and swords, and a few crossbows mounted on the wall as if really to be lifted and fired. Hope thought that reflected her mood pretty accurately, though her eyes still lingered on the swords and crossbows before she left, making her way down to the first floor.

Professor McGonagall directed her to one the seats and Hope sat down, counting her lucky stars that Snape was too busy with remediation with another student for her to have detention with him. Hope still didn't understand how someone like him could've been friends with her mother, but it wasn't like she could very well ask her mother about it.

The obsidian-set ring on her thumb felt heavy and cold.

Hope had already finished her homework –the upside to being friends with someone as focused as Hermione meant they all got their schoolwork done early on– so that left her the time to look into other things.

There was a book called a bestiary, Thalia had told her about the general idea of it, that it was a sort of encyclopedia on magical and mythical creatures. There wasn't a really complete one, just usually one on creatures of a specific region, magical or mythical, never both in the same book, and never worldly; Hope thought that was a bit of a shame.

She flipped through the pages, but any mention of 'godlings' in  _Monsters: Myth and_   _Magic_ and  _Forgotten Ancient Creatures of the World_  were miniscule at best and vague at worst, but  _Ancient Creature of the Unknown_  had merit.

 _A godling,_  the passage informed,  _is a term often used to describe a person of immortal blood, though lacking immortality. Direct children of gods were often known as demigods, but the blanket term of godling refers to all those that share a bloodline with a god, whether just a drop of godly ichor or making up half of their blood. Just a single drop of godly blood keeps a godling from being considered human, and as such, they might find themselves blessed with natural gifts that escape their non-creature brethren. A godling of the Roman goddess Proserpine might find themselves with the ability to affect plants and flowers by simply wishing. A godling of the Egyptian god Montu might find themselves an expert in weaponry without requiring years of training. A godling of the Celtic goddess Morrigan might find themselves with a touch of death. Of course, just as easily, a godling might inherit almost nothing from their godly ancestor. The smell of godly blood can make them more appealing to other creatures as food, based on the region and mythical aspect of the creature. To some they are categorized as sub-human in the being category, to others they are human adjacent, similar but still set apart from those fully human. Godlings have often faced prejudice for their near-human status by those believing humans to be superior to non-humans._

It went on and on, more information about godlings than Hope had been expecting. But it still made her frown; somehow she'd never considered that to some she might not even be human. It was easier to think about Remus in that aspect, simply because he was a werewolf, not part man and part wolf, fully a werewolf, but Hope just had a few drops of godly blood.

She turned the page and blinked, because someone had scrawled in hasty writing:  _Beware: godly gifts come in threes._

Hope pursed her lips, thinking of the talk Thalia had with her back in Greece:  _"Descendants of the gods have certain, shall we say, affinities?" Thalia drummed two fingers in the air. "The farther back Thanatos' blood goes, the less gifts are imparted upon us. Of myself and my children, only Galen has displayed an ability like that."_

Godly gifts come in threes…like Thanatos' three sons, Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. There were three brothers, then, relatively close in age, now there were three cousins relatively close in age; the parallelism didn't escape her. And if that meant that there were more gifts to be inherit by her and Aggie…she had to wonder what they were.

Hope's fingers brushed over the scar the Keres had left her with.

She had to wonder if they were worth it.

Ignotus might've lived a long life, but Cadmus and Antioch were not so lucky;  _many_  in Hope's line were not so lucky.

But a bestiary could be helpful, especially since Hope was so unfamiliar with the Greek mythical monsters squeezing their way out from the damage made to the Gates. So Hope grabbed a loose leaf of parchment and scrawled at the top 'Godlings' and began to etch details into the parchment.

It was only when she left detention two hours that she found a large blackboard and dragged it up to Morea's Room, despite getting a strange look from the students she moved past.

She needed to make a list of creatures to research, and writing them down on the blackboard seemed like the best option.

Hope yawned widely.  _But one to leave for another day._

* * *

Aggie still dreamed of tombs and fogs and decaying flesh over bones and she had a feeling that if she told her brother or mother they wouldn't react well. Death wasn't exactly a forbidden topic in her family, given that they were actually related to him, but she remembered how Thalia had reacted when Galen had first sank into a pool of shadow and disappeared briefly. It had been a startled terror.

Thanatos spoke more with her mother and with Hope, Aggie had noticed, but maybe the latter was because Hope was, for the most part, alone with regards to the bloodline they shared; Aggie had Galen and her mother; Hope's father was long gone.

But, it would've been impossible not to recognize the god himself, swept in black robes, his skin bloodless and hair a gleaming reddish-brown, even with Aggie's eyes barely open. Long pale fingers dropped a parchment leaf onto her bedside table only to sink into the shadows once more, like Galen so often did. It was only when he was gone that Aggie sat upright, turning on the light by her bedside and pulled the parchment towards her, wincing in the bright light.

It was a map of France, of a particular city in France, Le Mans. There was an arrow drawn to a point that said:  _To enter the catacomb beneath Le Mans._  Aggie blinked and brought the parchment closer to her eyes. She'd been dreaming of tombs in walls for awhile now, it wasn't that far off to believe that they were part of the catacombs. She unfolded the map a bit more to find something else scrawled:  _Cadmus Peverell._

 _The Tale of the Three Brothers_  was a story all Wizarding children knew, it was a particular favourite of the Blackwoods and Hope as well, especially since it was based on a true story. Of course, Aggie had always thought it amusing to have a story about three brothers supposedly outsmarting Death –notwithstanding the story of Sisyphus–, seeing as he was very wise to begin with; it appeared to be a rather difficult task.

Still, Aggie had an adventurous spirit, it was one of the reasons that she liked Hope so much, so Aggie did what all reckless and curious eleven year olds did on a night when they didn't have school in the morning; she threw her covers off and dressed as silently as possible, grabbing a torch from under her bed and winding a backpack over her shoulders.

Getting past Galen was going to be the trick, because her brother had passed out on the couch while doing paperwork, and Aggie couldn't help but think that it was a good thing that her mother was working late (or was it early now?) because Aggie really wouldn't have been able to pull the wool over her eyes. She crept slowly across the floor only wincing when there was a sudden creak that made her brother jerk in his sleep, but after a moment he relaxed and Aggie could breathe again as she eased her way out of the house.

She grabbed her bike where it was resting against the eastern side from when she had biked home from school, splitting off from her best friend Ajax as he had headed home. She hopped on her seat, hooked up her torch and started pedalling.

Ajax had been out of sorts for months. The disappearance of his mother around the time the Gates had been damaged had made him very jittery and off-balance, his fingers sparking often and frequently. His father had left as soon as his mother had found out she was pregnant, then his mother's girlfriend had turned up dead, and now this. It was really no wonder his grandfather –his mother's step-father– wanted to keep him close.

Heels dragged in the dirt as Aggie came to a stop and picked up a small pebble and arced her arm to collide it against the window in his room. She waited several seconds, and when he didn't respond, she threw another stone. She was on her third when he finally poked his head out of the window, blinking blearily.

" _Aggie?"_  he grumbled, staring down at her hazily. "Its two in the morning…" He seemed to almost fall back asleep but then he jerked himself awake once more.

"I know," she said, carefully keeping her voice low so as not to cause Ajax's grandfather to awaken. "Come on, get dressed, we're going to France."

If Ajax were older and wiser and not as easy going, he would've questioned why on earth they going to France in the first place almost immediately, but the first question that passed his lips was, instead: "How on earth are we getting to France?"

Aggie grinned. "Hope's house-elf," she said. House-elves weren't very common in Greece, even in families as old of Aggie's, with houses just as big, they were seen more in the United Kingdom with manors and mansions, and Aggie didn't think their house technically counted as a mansion. Hope had told Mindy that since the Blackwoods were family, she could follow their orders as well. Still, Aggie thought Hope found the idea of ordering someone to follow another's commands to be a bit awkward.

There was a long silence during which Aggie was certain Ajax was wondering why he hadn't made a better choice in friends. "I'll grab my crossbow," he said, and Aggie blinked. She hadn't really thought about bringing her bow, but Ajax's was easier to hide in the form of a heavy silver charm on a strap of leather. She waited patiently for a few moments as Ajax got changed before quietly creeping out of the front door to hop onto the seat Galen had added to the back of her bike.

One call of Mindy and a few minutes later Aggie and Ajax found themselves in Le Mans, which Aggie was only certain of because of the sign that she pedalled past as Ajax yawned behind her. "Why're we in France anyways?"

Aggie liked mysteries, particularly ones deeply entrenched in history, especially ones about her family. She'd once followed their family tree all the way back to the first Blackwood, Damian, the first mate and husband to Nelda Slytherin, only to find out he'd been the son-in-law to the most famous recorded Earth Witch, Morea Avis. "I think it's because Cadmus Peverell is buried here," she said, pedalling slowly down the cobbled road.

"Who's Cadmus Peverell?"

Now that was a long and complicated story, so Aggie settled for: "He's an ancestor of mine. Thanatos wanted me to come here, I think."

Ajax frowned behind her. Zeus had never been as much a part of his and his mother's lives as Thanatos had been in the Blackwoods. He envied that the most.

Aggie took in a deep breath, forcing herself to relax and remember what Hope had once said about Earth Magick:  _"It's a lot about feeling your magic inside you and channelling it. Its more about intent than the words, a master doesn't even need any incantations, but we do because we suck at Earth Magick."_  Hope had rolled her eyes in exasperation while Aggie had laughed.

Focus was the easy part, it came naturally to Aggie, Hope was always thinking about a million different things, so it made sense that it had taken her some time to work at it; Hope's problem was that she didn't like slowing down or stopping, there was always something that interested her, some magic to look into, something to create from scratch. Aggie couldn't help but marvel at how Hope's brain worked, her ideas concerning magic were radical and new in Britain but less so in Greece.

" _ **Deíte to drómo,"**_  she incanted, her eyes blazing green and before her eyes she could see a path of blue laid out along the stone. She grinned. "This way!"

"What are you even following?" Ajax asked, grabbing her waist quickly when she made a sudden turn.

"Trust me!" Aggie laughed wildly. "I know where I'm going!"

That was the thrill of the Earth Magick rushing through her veins, tying her to the earth, the sea, the sky. It was addicting and it made sense why Hope loved it so, not even wand-magic compared to it.

Aggie rounded another corner into a darkened alley, dropping her feet to the ground to slow the bike, both hopping off as Aggie leaned the bike against one side of the building and flicked on her torch. "The trail ends here," she said, nodding towards the covering of the man-hole.

Her friend grimaced beside her. "Are you telling me we have to go into the sewers?"

"I've got a feeling this one doesn't lead into the sewers," Aggie said in an almost sing song voice, kneeling to remove the covering and then shining the light down the hole. Just as she'd predicted, while a bit further down than anticipated, there didn't appear to be any water, murky or otherwise.

"One day you're going to lead me into a forest and we're both going to  _die,"_  Ajax deadpanned as Aggie lodged her torch in her teeth and grasped the rungs of the ladder, taking a few steps downwards before winking up at him and then continuing on down.

Ajax briefly wondered about following, he didn't think he was as brave as Aggie, but what would his mother say?  _Follow the truth, no matter where it might lead._

So he dropped down after her, wincing in the darkness as they looked around. It definitely wasn't the sewer, that much Ajax was sure of. The ground was sandy and it was more like an underground tunnel than a sewer, the walls smoothed and formed, but Ajax couldn't help but get a shiver down his spine. There was something about this tunnel that made him incredibly nervous.

"Think we're alone down here?" he asked Aggie and the girl paused, tilting her head to look at him, the torch shading her face eerily.

"Maybe?" she said nervously. Ajax didn't like it when Aggie was nervous, he never wanted her to be nervous, he wanted her to be safe; safety was a concept beyond the pair of them at this point.

He touched a finger to the charm on his long leather strap and a second later a crossbow was resting in his hands. He'd switched for a regular bow to a crossbow in the last year and he was still learning, but he hadn't done much practicing since his mother's disappearance, it was her weapon, after all.

They stood in silence for a long moment, but then there was nothing. Somehow Ajax doubted that they were alone. The monsters had been quiet, but they weren't stupid; eons of being locked up in Tartarus had taught them nothing but patience. Ajax was ashamed to admit that he'd never really taken mythical monsters seriously, he'd seen a few, of course, some had a tendency to manifest on dark emotions, but the common ones from Tartarus he hadn't really considered. But his mother was gone now, he didn't even know if she was dead or alive. Amynta Moswell could call lightning and whip the wind around her; she was a storm  _itself._  The most that Ajax could do was shock people with his hands and it was never very much.

"C'mon," Aggie mumbled, suddenly hyperaware of their situation, "the trail leads this way."

The thrill of excitement and adventure was still there, but now and undercurrent of unease bridging on fear had joined its ranks. It was an odd place for Cadmus to be buried; the Blackwoods were cremated and had their ashes spread wherever they wished. What if it wasn't where he'd been buried? What if it was something else entirely? A place to hide certain items?

Aggie could smell the graveyard dirt scenting the air, like they were walking through a graveyard in the dead of night, even though she knew the truth was very different.

They both had to pause at the sound of wings fluttering loudly.

"What are the chances that there's a bird down here?" Ajax asked, his strangled voice mild.

"Low," Aggie decided, " _frightfully_  low."

And the sound was getting louder and louder. Aggie drew herself behind Ajax, missing her bow more than she thought possible. And it was only then that they actually saw it, wings like razor blades, a fiery mass on its head, and mouth forming into a hooked beak.

"Harpy," Aggie noted faintly as it rushed through the air towards them with beak drawn wide, only to swallow the crossbow bolt that Ajax shot towards it, erupting into flames. "Don't Harpies travel in packs?" She thoughts were drawn to the illustrations in one of the books in the library of Harpies together on a pile of rocks and bones.

"Let's not stick around to find out," Ajax decided, taking her hand as she took off in the direction of a path that only she could see, dragging him after her until he finally picked up his feet and raced with her.

The glow intensified and Aggie was almost blinded as she came to a stop at a dead end with a three spoked wheel to turn. Aggie winced her eyes shut only to blink them open once more when the glow had faded. The door was old and there were cobwebs on the spokes as she shined her light against it; it looked like it hadn't been disturbed in more than an age. Aggie reached forward to brush her fingers against the rough carving of the Peverell's Coat of Arms, the triangle for the Cloak of Invisibility, the circle for the Resurrection Stone, and the straight line for the Elder Wand. The door was far too plain for someone from a family such as the Peverells, and while they might now be extinct upon the male line, that didn't mean that they hadn't been an impressive family when there were still Peverells living.

Aggie formed her mouth around the end of the torch, holding it there –Ajax had the crossbow, she couldn't really give him the torch too– as she tried to move the spokes, but they were stuck fast. It wasn't a question of strength, and if it was she doubted Ajax would help much. She took the torch out of her mouth in order to point it around the slab that counted as the door.

There wasn't any other marking on the slab except for a long dried dark stain on the right side and Aggie frowned. Could it have been blood? So as to make it impossible for anyone less than blood relatives to enter?

_Could it really be that simple?_

Aggie reached into the backpack that she had brought with her to withdraw the knife Hope had gifted her, the one that had once belonged to Morea Avis, that Hope had given her some time ago, believing its ornate style to be more Aggie's style than hers.

She brought the sharp edge against her palm, wincing as it cut into her hand, blood appearing where the skin split. Aggie pressed her hand against the slab and she felt it ripple under her hand.

This time when she grasped the spokes, they easily turned and with one extra push just as another shrieking cry echoed and Aggie and Ajax tumbled inside, the door swinging shut quickly behind them and a torch in a brazier alighting instantly, illuminating the darkness.

There were cobwebs on everything in the room, making it clear that it had remained undisturbed for many centuries; it was impossible for anything to have been disturbed without a trace.

" _Whoa,"_  was all Ajax could say, staring at the books on the shelves, the long-since rotted potion ingredients, the symbol of the inverted torch on the wall, an elaborate altar beneath it, a skull along with it, cauldrons, candles, and a wand resting forgotten on the shelf. There wasn't really any hint of who the room had once belonged to and really it looked more like a place that Cadmus might've stored certain things that he didn't want others to know about.

Aggie inhaled slowly. The smell of graveyard dirt more potent than she would've thought possible, and just this once she decided to follow her nose. She moved to the shelf as though propelled by a force she couldn't understand, ignoring the cobwebs and the spiders as they scuttled away, drawing one book from the shelf and then dropping it to the ground, and then another.

"Uh, Aggie?" Ajax asked, his voice pitched slightly with worry as he watched his friend move almost trance-like, dropping book after book until most of the single shelf was devoid of books, except, it seemed, that there appeared to have been something lodged behind the books. Aggie lifted the item carefully, removing what appeared to be a cloth-wrapped book. "What is it?"

But Aggie didn't answer, her eyes half-lidded as she carefully pulled the cloth free, letting it tumble to the ground. Then she blinked and it was as if the spell had been broken and she found herself looking down at a book that felt ice-cold in her hands, like death. Her eyes roved over the cover, which was vaguely skeletal like in appearance, almost as if a skull was pressing out of the cover.  _Necronomicon_  was written in thick letters across the top.

The weight of what she was holding suddenly hit her. A thick tome on the vastness and the ancientness in Necromancy at its source, from Death himself to his son Cadmus.

 _Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So, Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._  The story still echoed in her mind as it had the first time her mother had read it to her, and Aggie had related the most to the second brother, a fact that was not lost on her now.

And it was only then that finally looked up from the book only to be startled so badly that she nearly dropped the book, because behind Ajax, with his expression caught halfway between concerned and confused, were three women in long flowing white robes, hooded with their mouths opening at the same time and speaking in the same tongue.

" _The first with shadow,_

_The second with the dead,_

_But the third takes from the living their life instead._

_Let the living be filled with dread,_

_As one of Peverell's blood runs red._

_First there were three,_

_And then there were two._

_For death there is always a due."_

One unfurled a thread of thick yarn, the second measured it out, and third took her shears and cut through it before all three vanished and Aggie remembered to breathe again as terror filtered through her veins instead of blood.

"Aggie?" Ajax asked. "Are you all right?"

The book couldn't have been colder in her arms. "I'm fine," she forced out, "just thought I saw something, is all."

And then she shrugged casually to put him at ease, bending to lift something from the ground, declaring it to be perfect for Hope and placing both it and the book in her backpack before they checked the time and beat a hasty but careful retreat back up to the surface.

Being visited by the Fates had never boded well for the heroes in the myths and Aggie doubted the same for herself. She felt like an ice cold fist was clenching around her heart and for the first time in her short life, Aggie felt a fear of death.

* * *

It had been some time since Bill Weasley had stepped foot in Hogwarts and it filled him with nostalgia. The stones that made the structure, the portraits along the walls, the ornate windows, they all made it Hogwarts. Honestly, Bill hadn't been expecting to actually be sent to Hogwarts by Gringotts to present a document in person to one of the students, a very particular one that garnered a great deal of interest.

Hope Potter.

He'd read the interview that she'd given the Daily Prophet some time ago, and it had been an interesting insight into the girl, of course, that didn't appear to stop his mother from being distrustful. A Slytherin Potter? Surely that wasn't  _possible!_  They were a light family, after all. But then Ginny had been Sorted into Slytherin, and Bill had definitely heard about that.

Personally, Bill had worked with many great witches and wizards at Gringotts that had been from Slytherin, and he knew his father was very accepting of the fact that his daughter was in a different and rather less liked House, but it was harder from his mother. Old prejudices died hard.

Professor McGonagall directed him in the right direction as Professor Dumbledore was out of the castle at the moment and he heard voices first before anything else.

"Is there a tomato slice in your journal?" a young voice asked sharply. "A dried tomato slice?"

"Probably," came a second voice. "Did I tell you about William and Bridger? They're really big on food. William once ate a pepper in front of me without blinking and then held it out to me like it wasn't seriously spicy…okay, but back to the non-human list—"

And that was when Bill rounded the corner. There were four of them, and only one that Bill recognized. On the long bench just in front of a stone window that showed the Stone Courtyard just beyond, teeming with the next generation of young witches and wizards. Ginny was on the end, a black diary in her hands, the green and silver tie wound around her throat. Next to her was a girl with the only red and gold tie, and one with blonde hair in a perfect side-bun, taking up the last spot on the bench, forcing the fourth girl to sit on the ground, hair dark, curls held away from her face as she looked through a book and made notes.

"Do you think banshees can only be female?" the fourth was asking.

"Are they going into your book?"

"Well,  _obviously!"_

Suddenly two heads popped through the archway that made the stone window behind them as Bill came closer. "Hey, Bill!" they chorused and the girls severely startled, but the fourth girl jolted so much that she scrambled to her feet with an impressive swear for her age.

"What in  _Hades_  is your problem?" she demanded of Fred and George who both grinned cheekily.

"Sorry, Hope," Fred laughed and George's eyes gleamed before they came around, giving Ginny the opportunity to look up from her diary and see their oldest brother standing there, and she'd stood to throw her arms around him eagerly with an excited  _"Bill!"_

Her brother laughed, winding his arms securely around her, and when she pulled back he thought he caught a glimpse of her untidy scrawl of 'Dear, Tom' but she shut it before he could get a proper look.

"It'll be hard for you to be sorry when you're dead," Hope grumbled under her breath, brushing herself off, gritting her teeth when there was an echoing crack beside her and Bill blinked at the sudden sight of a house elf.

"Mistress," the house elf said primly, looking to Hope and holding out a spherical object for Hope to grasp with befuddlement. "From Miss Aggie, Mistress."

Hope blinked, holding it in her hands. "Um," she said, her brow furrowed, "what is it?"

The blonde sniggered behind her. "Haven't you seen a spherical astrolabe before, Hope?"

Hope scowled towards her friend as the twins went off to greet their brother, dismissing Mindy as she blew loudly on the surface of the astrolabe, coughing loudly as dust rose into the air, exposing the bronze underneath. "No," she said flatly, looking at it like it might be defective.

"Actually," Bill was saying to his siblings once they'd given him time to breathe, "I'm here for Miss Potter."

Hope looked up, her brow furrowing as she glanced to her friends in confusion, an expression that they echoed.

He stepped in front of her and her eyes darted to the fang earring and then to the ponytail, arching an eyebrow but saying nothing, even as he pulled a thick folded piece of parchment from his robes. "I understand you also go by another name? Elpis Sl—"

"Yes," Hope said with a frown, "but the only people that call me it are my grandfathers and a bunch of pirates."

" _Pirates?"_  George queried behind his brother, but Hope didn't bother explaining as she took the parchment.

"What is this?" she asked before opening it and falling silent.

"Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel passed away yesterday," Bill explained gently, aware that the students around him were listening with interest. "They left you a bequest in their will."

Hope startled at that, tilting her head to look him in the eye, eyes filtering a hazel in her surprise.

"Ragnok had specific instructions about your bequest from the Flamels," Bill continued, "ordinarily there's a will reading, but they'd given most of their assets away prior to their…passing. They didn't have any heirs, so I believe you're the only one with a specific bequest."

The expression on her face faltered and doubt spread like a wildfire. "But I'd only met them once or twice," she said, and Bill had a feeling that she wasn't aiming that at anyone except herself.

Hope's eyes flicked down to the page until she reached: To Elpis Slytherin we leave a chest of trinkets that might be of use to her in her journeys to come. They are hers to choose with what they are used for, keep or give away, or even bury, if she desires to do so.

Hope frowned. It was a bit of an odd request, if you asked her, but she didn't question it, it was the last request of the Flamels, of course.

"There's a chest?" she asked Bill.

"Its waiting at Gringotts, you still need to sign for it," Bill explained. "I can take you there now if you're free."

Hope looked rather like she wanted to agree, but then she paused, something flickering in her eyes, turning them dark. "No," she said finally, breathing out slowly through her nose, "I'll…I'll go later. Thank you…Bill?" She furrowed her brow a bit at his name.

"Bill Weasley," he agreed, realizing they'd never really been properly introduced, extending a hand. She took it without blinking, her grip firm. "Nice to meet you…pirates?"

A smile curved Hope's lips. "Pirates," she agreed, but still didn't elaborate, thanking him for coming out to deliver the will in person and Bill gave his siblings fleeting hugs, asking after Ron and Percy before giving a nod and waving goodbye.

"When did you see the Flamels?" Hermione asked curiously when he'd gone.

"About two weeks after break started," Hope shrugged. "I needed to give Nicolas Flamel back his stone."

Daphne and Hermione gaped at her. "You had the  _Philosopher's Stone?"_ Daphne demanded. "I thought you  _lost_  itafter the thing with Quirrell!"

Fred and George were sniggering and Ginny was a bit confused, while Hope scratched her cheek awkwardly. "Well, I needed some unrefined gold to make some shield-markers!"

"You are absolutely  _unreal,"_  Hermione told her seriously and Hope looked rather flattered.

* * *

Hope's ability to maintain a normal sleep cycle seemed negligible at best these days, though not really because of nightmares, just because there seemed to be so much on her mind. Her eyes flicked over the pages where she'd scribbled words of different creatures and crossed some out. She pursed her lips, doodling a small lump in the corner of the page that could've been the Philosopher's Stone. She found it incredibly strange that the Flamels would've left her anything, but she thought it might've been some of the things that Perenelle had used when she was sailing the seas with Nomia; there wasn't really anything else it could've been.

She blinked blearily, thinking that maybe she should be heading to bed, only to hit her ankle on her bag and hiss as it collided with the spherical astrolabe that she hadn't really done much with. Of course, it did seem like the kind of thing that Aggie would send her in a spur of the moment, even though Hope's wasn't entirely sure how it worked.

Hope reached down to grab the strap of her bag from where she was sitting curled up on the couch closest to the windows that looked out into the Black Lake, only to pause at the sound of noise.

She couldn't quite describe the sound, like a rustling or shaking of chains with a hissing whisper.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, even though she was alone.

"Anyone there?" she whispered into the silence, but nothing came of it, so Hope merely sighed and gathered up her things, making her way quietly up the stairs and pulling herself into bed long after her dorm mates had fallen asleep. She closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

And the next thing she knew, she was standing in a room she had no idea how she had gotten to, opening a chest in the corner like it had been her destination all along. Inside was a smaller box, black and painted with white symbols and runes, the chains around it rattling with each time it shook, quaking like there was something within it, something that wanted to get out, something dark and cold and ancient and mysterious.

Hope reached out a hand and another closed around her wrist. She looked up in surprise to Salazar Slytherin's young face.

"I wouldn't do that, Granddaughter," he warned. "There are some things far too dangerous to meddle with."

He wasn't as transparent as Hope had been expecting.

"What is it?" she found herself asking.

Salazar's jaw tightened. " _That_  is evidence of Voldemort's failure."

Hope's eyes shot open, breathing hard, still feeling the cold that had emanated from the box, as though touched by Death.

Was it a dream that she'd had, or something else entirely? Even Hope couldn't say for certain, but she would one day learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long wait, and I'm sorry but nursing school had be breaking down almost every day for three weeks, so I had to take a break from fanfics. Book 2 has a lot of interlinking subplots and set ups for future books. Book 2 doesn't completely focus on Hope, so you'll be getting the perspectives of other characters during its duration, like the scene with Aggie and Ajax.
> 
> Not much of the twins or Leon, but maybe next chapter :) I had to cover the foreshadowing and subplot introduction in this chapter


	24. In the Atlantic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!
> 
> There's been a lot of theories about the Fates' eerie message to Aggie, but I guess you'll just have to wait and see. I will say that the box at the end of the last chapter is not a Horcrux and neither is Riddle's diary, because in this AU the Horcruxes don't exist; the diary is important, as is the box, but they aren't Horcruxes.
> 
> Book 2 is actually going to be split into 2 parts so I'm going to stop worrying about how long it's getting.
> 
> I will say that based on the direction that this fic is going, it's very unlikely that George and Hope will actually be in a relationship, something I hadn't really thought about when I started the fic, but, then again, pirates weren't even meant to be a major part of the fic. The fics I write are pretty organic and definitely evolve as time goes on, so a lot of the ideas I come up with are never implemented.

Thalia looked down at the annulment papers for her husband, a frown marring her lips, her pen stilling just over her signature line, caught between what was the best thing to do.

Nileas Ganis had been simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever happen to her. He'd given her two amazing children and their love had been something she had marvelled at at the time, but then he'd left without a word or even a thought, disappearing from their lives as though he'd never been there in the first place.

Thalia looked to the old framed picture on her desk to her sister's bright and smiling face, cheek-to-cheek against hers. Her heart throbbed. She should've had Aglaia buried under the Blackwood name, but Aglaia had been born before her parents' marriage –too free and unconcerned to think about anything but their love and care for each other and their child– and so she took her father's name, Gerus, as it was the custom of the Blackwoods that their name be carried on, despite marriage. Such a tragedy, it had been called when she died and it must've been worse for the partner Thalia herself had never met.

It was strange that she'd never known his name and that he'd never come to the funeral.

"Just sign it, already!"

Thalia jumped in her seat as her best friend plopped herself into the seat before her. Ophelia Megalos was tanned and freckled from a recent dig in Egypt, as the Rune Analyst was one of the best in the world, and an inspiration for Aggie.

Ophelia arched an eyebrow. "That scum never deserved you as a wife."

Thalia sighed. "It's not that simple. The children—"

"The children, _your_  children," Ophelia put a dark emphasis on the word, "have every reason to hate him, and they do. There's no need to keep yourself tied to someone who ran for the hills as soon as he had the chance."

Thalia pursed her lips thoughtfully, looking down at the paper.

"Thalia, are you all right?"

She blinked and looked up past Ophelia to Remus Lupin standing at the side of her desk, a smile coming up automatically, even though she knew Ophelia's eyes were immediately drawn to the scars and the cane.

"Perfectly fine," she smiled, her heart speeding up just slightly, "I'm just late for lunch." She winked at him, seeing as he was the one she was late to meet. Their standing Thursday lunches was starting to be the highlight of her week, and she was sure that was telling.

Remus laughed even as she stuffed the parchment into her desk and took his arm, scowling over her shoulder at Ophelia who had slid her glasses down her nose slightly in order to cast a knowing glance towards her friend. "Catch you later, Thals, I've gotta catch someone about the increased number of ghostly apparitions I saw in Egypt…" Ophelia waved two fingers at her friend before darting away, calling over her shoulder, "It sounds  _most_ suspicious!"

Thalia huffed a laugh and turned around. "The usual?"

"But, of course," Remus responded easily.

* * *

Hope was frowning over the spherical astrolabe, scrutinizing it as though through magnifying glass as if looking for some hidden indents to press at. She'd looked up what a spherical astrolabe was supposed to look like and there was something slightly off about hers.

"You're way more into that than I thought you'd be," Hermione said after swallowing some eggs. They were sitting together at the Gryffindor table that crisp Sunday morning with their Slytherin shadow.

It had quickly become noticeable that Ginny was not very comfortable in Slytherin House (to which Hope would say "Who _would_ be?"), but Hope didn't think she was improving her chances by hanging out with Hope, whose name was mud even more than usual.

"These constellations look off, is all," Hope grumbled. "Argo Navis is supposed to be on the opposite hemisphere…"

"Well, we know who's going to pass  _their_ Astronomy exam," Fred winked across the table from her and Hope rolled her eyes.

"Are you saying you're going to fail?" she asked dryly.

"Probably," George laughed, "with how much he's studying."

They all laughed at the outraged expression that appeared on Fred's face.

"I thought we were blaming Angelina for that?" Daphne asked innocently and Ginny giggled while the other witch pushed at Daphne's shoulder.

But they all turned to Hope when she said suddenly.  _"Aha!"_  She blinked when she realized that she had all of their attention. "Oh, sorry, it was just jammed." She twisted the knob at the top and the bronze plating of stars morphed into continents.

"So, it becomes a globe?" Hermione's brow creased.

"Well, that's  _boring,"_  Daphne complained, "it could've been an  _explosion!"_

That earned her a few looks but Hope considered the astrolabe in contemplation.

She knew she looked like hell after the strange dream she'd had about Salazar only to be followed by one about a Keres with its claws at Hope's throat. Hope held in a shudder. Still, the biggest problem that she was having as a godling, and it was going to take some getting used to referring to herself with that word, was the monsters.

" _Just try to stay within the borders of the school, all right?"_  Thalia had said to Hope and Hope squelched the urge to point out that the Keres had gotten through the wards at Potter Manor which she thought were a good bit more powerful.  _"We're trying to get back to the source of the breach, then we can work on fixing the Gates themselves."_

She and Galen were sort of dealing with the monsters on an almost case-to-case basis, whenever they popped up, but Hope thought it was smarter to track them down than waiting.

Finding a way to identify monsters by finding them on a globe could be a good start…maybe there was a good spell in Morea's book for enchanting objects with locator spells. Either way it was going to take time for Hope to get it working.

Hope leaned down in order to replace it in her bag when her book suddenly fell off the table and open to a page that she hadn't gotten to. Hope leaned down and grabbed it, looking to the page in curiosity.

 _Banshee_  was emblazoned on the top of the page _. A banshee,_  the passage said,  _is a spirit of Irish origins that is more often female than not. The banshee is known as a death omen who heralds death by wailing, keening, or screaming, though screaming is the most common. Banshees are not all similar in appearance as other creatures are, though there are many accounts of women with long streaming hair, ghastly complexion and red eyes from continual weeping._

_Banshees are best known for their ability to predict death and their fatal screams, despite this, sometimes a Banshee can sometimes predict a near-death experience or a transformation through death, though those instances are rare. The range of a Banshee's scream often depends on the power of the Banshee. Some Banshees can only affect a person they are directly in front of, whereas others could have a destructive outward force._

_They are a rare species of subhuman that can form a mental bond with another being for survival, as not very many species are capable of such a feat, especially if it's subconscious. Such an ability is often compared to a marriage-bond that many witches and wizards find themselves with, however, marriage is not required for such a bond and more often than not the bonds are platonic and a means for the Banshee to protect themselves._

Hope frowned thoughtfully. A death omen…now that was something that Hope could understand, being a descendent of Death himself.

_Banshees have one known weakness: gold. The belief is that since gold is what is known as a Noble Metal that are resistant to corrosion in moist air it is toxic to Banshees, as the origin of the Banshee revealed that they were once beings of mist and fog._

Hope closed her eyes, thinking hard, remembering the night when she'd been out at sea with Nomia and appeared on the Concorde. There'd been that Red Coat aiming at Léon de Grammont when his back was turned, when she'd looked back, the bullet gouging into the wood where Léon had been standing had definitely had a distinctive golden colour.

"Thinking hard?"

Hope opened her eyes to see George considering her, an eyebrow arched. "Thinking about Banshees, actually."

"Banshees?" he asked, a word that was echoed by her friends.  _"Why?"_

"Morbid curiosity," Hope said with a grin before marking the page and shutting it to re-join the conversation. "Are we still lamenting to Fred's grade in Astronomy?"

" _Hey!"_

Hope laughed. "At least I know who not to get help from when I study."

"Oh,  _please,"_  Daphne scoffed, "Astronomy's so easy any of us could get through it with our eyes closed."

"Slightly open in _Fred's_  case," Lee interjected with a beaming grin and they all laughed at his expense.

"Exactly how much are you enjoying Lockhart, Hope?" Angelina asked mildly and Hope groaned loudly.

" _Ugh_ ," she complained, "he's the absolute  _worst!_  Maybe I should just be skipping Defence Against the Dark Arts all together…"

" _You can't do that!"_  Hermione's eyes were wide and her voice stunned. "You'll fail end of the year exams if you do that!"

"Lesser of two evils, if you ask me," Hope grumbled under her breath, digging into her pocket to pull out the will that Bill Weasley had left her with.

She'd had a full day to sit on it and think about how she felt about the will itself, and Hope still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it, or even what they could have possibly left her.

But she supposed there was only one way to find out.

She was distracted however by the owls filtering in through the hall, distributing letters and gifts to the students from home. Hope wasn't expecting anything, of course, Remus and Thalia and her cousins mirror-called these days instead of sending letters; Remus made a point to check in on her at least once a week, as if he was worried that she would explode if in discontent otherwise (which was fair when considering the fact that she despised her Head of House and he felt much the same). But Hope still looked up at the sounds of surprise, arching her eyebrow at the sight of what appeared to be a bird made completely of water carrying a package.

Hope didn't even realize it was for her until the bird hovered several feet above her and suddenly seemed to melt away, dropping the package into Hope's hands, almost pitching it into her food.

"Nice catch," Alicia grinned. "Who's it from?"

"There's no name," Hermione noticed as Hope pushed her plate aside and cut the twine wound around it, lifting the lid off and blinking at the contents.

Daphne leaned across the table to inspect what it was that Hope had lifted out of the package. " _Ooh,_  cool…what is it?"

Hope's fingers roved over the material. It was tough but malleable, like leather only just a bit more scale-like, formed into the shape of a tunic, the design rather simple.

She frowned suspiciously at it and grabbed the nearest, sharpest knife and stabbed it into the tunic, ignoring Ginny's faint gasp at her side.

" _Hope!"_  Hermione reproached, but she fell abruptly silent because the knife had shattered against the fabric, tiny fragments falling as she shook it out.

"Huh," Hope said, "I guess it's kinda like Frodo's mithril shirt."

Everyone stared blankly at her for a few seconds, but then Hermione's eyes cleared. "Oh, you mean from the Lord of the Rings! I forgot you read those books."

Hope rolled her eyes and laughed. "I had no idea Cerastes skin was so strong…maybe its weak spot is just right behind its head…"

"I sense a story," Fred remarked in a sing-song voice that earned George an exasperated look from Hope, but the twin only shrugged and gave her a wink. Hope shook her head.

"A Cerastes is a Greek mythological monster," Hope said with as much patience as she could muster and hoping to the gods that no one asked her what she was doing fighting Greek mythological creatures in the first place, because that was going to get into complicated territory. "It's like a massive snake with horns. I cut off the head of one over the summer."

"You did what?" Ginny was gaping, too stunned to be shy, but Hermione and Daphne both nodded, they'd heard the story before. She'd never elaborated much on it, like the bodies of the pirates who hadn't been as lucky, or the fear she had felt, and the stunned surprise when it had actually worked. Hope was guessing no one else had seen the horns in the box with labelled jars for the other body parts of the Cerastes, which were probably worth some money.

"It's not that big of a deal," Hope said, pressing her fringe down over the lightning bolt scar on her brow, like doing so hadn't earned her the name Serpent Tongue.  _"Hey_ , no, why're you  _laughing?"_ she demanded of her friends when the laughter exploded around her, but that only made them laugh harder.

Her friends were the  _worst._

* * *

Sundays were less busy in Gringotts, for which Hope was grateful, then she didn't have people pointing at her scar or people questioning why a twelve-year-old was at Gringotts on the weekend alone.

A goblin named Gornuk had her set up in a private room that had only the single chest within it, as had been specified in Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel's will.

The chest itself was rather old and unassuming and Hope could see the worn and peeling letters of  _PF_ , so that meant it belonged to Perenelle.

Hope undid the latches and flipped the top open to reveal the contents within, and whatever she'd been expecting, it hadn't been that, though she supposed she should've guessed with the story Perenelle had spun for her when she'd gone to see the Flamels over the summer.

There was a long leather cylinder that she realized was there to protect parchment within and when she pulled the parchment free, she had to dust off them off, blowing the dust away and examining them intently. It looked like they were maps of a sort with specific locations marked, so it must've been significant, but Hope wasn't sure what exactly it meant.

She reached inside again and this time pulled out a very worn compass, bound in leather and with something that looked remarkably like blood seeping into the creases.

Then she pulled out a sword belt. It looked rather unlike Nomia's and Léon's, whose belts had stretched vertically across the chest and more like William and Bridger's who wore theirs at their waist with their swords slightly below. Apparently, pirates were a big fan of large buckles, as Perenelle's was shaped like a cresting wave.

Hope blinked, examining it closely this time. Where the compass had been worn –though still not as much as Hope had expected–, the belt itself appeared to be new, one that hadn't been Perenelle's own.

She set it aside.

There were several books, all with a focus on piracy and Hope was beginning to see a common theme. There were two bracelets that were ornate metal with a bluish gemstone in the middle; Hope thought they might've been significant, but she wasn't sure what they were for.

Hope didn't know how long she examined the contents of the chest until she reached the bottom with only a single small box remaining with a letter in a loopy scrawl for Hope Potter. Hope sat back down on the floor and broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter within.

 _Hope_ , it started:

 _I'm sure you will find it surprising to discover a single bequest for you in our will when everything else has been given away, but there is a method to our madness, I promise you. It had been quite some time since I'd thought about Nomia and my time on the_ Golden Fleece _, even though all the memories I had of it were surely good and certainly impacted my life henceforth, and it is always good to remember both the good and the bad that comes with reliving our pasts. Before the details of the will were even finalized I found myself seeking out the Naiad captain of the_ Golden Fleece _for simply farewell's sake. She was pleased and surprised to see me, until I described you, a girl she referred to only as El, and I suppose there was in importance to you using a different name, but it mattered not, all that mattered was that I was able to bid an old friend a final farewell given that none of my school friends still remain on this earth._

_Nomia was always a difficult person, but steadfast, loyal, and strong, and she had told me of the disagreement the two of you had the day previously, but one that seemed profoundly serious and deep. I also understand that it was something that was incredibly personal for you and it probably hurt quite a bit. Wearing masks is always a difficult business, but you are certainly not alone in the endeavour. Everyone wears a mask at some point in their life, some perhaps longer than others._

_I hope you don't take offense to our speaking about you, Hope, you were simply one of the many topics we spoke of. I know that Nomia has found it difficult to take on protégés in what she describes as the wake of the utmost betrayal, something she can't bring herself to speak much of, even now._

_What I mean to say is…no one is perfect, everyone is flawed, but moving forward is always the better option to looking back. Nomia sees your potential and you see yourself in comparison to her as a weaker, less skilled version. Truth is in the eye of the beholder, my dear, and I hope that one day you can see your own potential just as she does._

_Yours Truly,_

_Perenelle_

Hope pursed her lips, eyes flowing over the words. It was difficult to grasp that Nomia had been open about the disagreement the pair had had with Perenelle. Hope would be lying if she said that she didn't feel a flare of annoyance at the fact, but it was hard to blame someone who was now dead. Nomia on the other hand was very much alive and therefore,  _perfectly blameable_.

She picked up the last box, shaking it just slightly before peeking inside. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she still replaced the small box within the chest, collecting everything up and returning it to the chest, just as there was a polite knock at the door and a goblin entered.

He bowed shortly and distastefully which Hope decided not to take to heart. "The records you asked for, Heir Potter," he said, extending a parchment towards Hope.

Hope took it, almost having forgotten that she'd asked to check it. The goblins of Gringotts were incredibly meticulous, that much could be said, keeping profiles on those that possessed vaults, and even though Hope was certain in her heritage, she felt the need to check.

 _Hope Lily Potter_  was printed clearly and Hope trailed her fingers down until she reached  _Species_ , beside which was a single word  _Non-human_ , an arrow extending to the right towards the word  _Godling._

Well, Hope supposed that they would be the ones to know.

"Thank you," she said kindly, returning the parchment to him, but the goblin only grunted and turned around, leaving Hope in the echoing silence.

She blew out a sharp puff of air, frowning as she sat on the chair in the room. It was vindictive to be at least slightly happy that Nomia regretted her words, and Hope couldn't really help it, it was as though Nomia had left her stranded in the middle of the sea with no shore in sight.

Hope needed some advice.

* * *

"Hey,  _there_  you are! How'd it go at Gringotts?"

Hermione and Daphne caught up to her immediately after Mindy had returned Hope to the castle, which made Hope think that they must've figured out a way to track her dot on their map, either that, or they were incredibly lucky.

"All right," Hope shrugged, her hands holding tight to the hooks on either side of the chest, keeping her from making any gesture with her hands. "Not really what I was expecting, to be honest, but it's not like they left me bad stuff." Quite the opposite, actually. "And I wanted to show some of it to Morgane."

"Morgane? That mermaid you mentioned?" Hermione skipped slightly beside her as they headed out over the sprawling green grass in the direction of the Black Lake. "Why?"

"Because some of it I don't really understand and she served on ship once, so she probably knows better," Hope gave another shrug, hesitating to call Morgane a pirate when she'd only admitted to befriending pirates, not really noticing the faintly amused smile on Daphne's face.

Daphne had seen Hope more light-hearted in the past few days than she had probably since the day she'd met her, despite learning a lot of things that probably scared her. It was like the saying went,  _the truth will set you free._

Hope set down the chest in the grass and started pulling her shoes off in order to stand in the water, cool water soaking her feet first and then her ankles as she went further. Hope crouched down to press her hand just slightly against the surface of the water.

" _ **Kal**_ _ **ó**_ _ **Morgane,"**_  she intoned, her eyes glowing green. For a few moments there was only silence and then Daphne gasped suddenly at the sight of a finned tail that was such a bright and beautiful colour and the next thing anyone knew a head of dark hair was flipped back to reveal gleaming dark skin and eyes.

"A weak summoning spell, Elpis, I'll give you that," the mermaid bared her teeth in a smile but Hope, given some more extensive research on mermaids and their love of drowning men (Hope had noticed that men were preferable and really you had to wonder  _why_  that was), couldn't help but think that if anyone crossed Morgane they'd find it a bit more terrifying. "Who're your friends?"

"This is Daphne Greengrass," Hope said gesturing first to the blonde and then to the brunette with the French braid, "and that's Hermione Granger."

"Morgane," the mermaid offered helpfully, moving her tail around in the shallows and Daphne was in awe.

"Your scales are beautiful," she couldn't help but tell the mermaid.

" _Thank you,"_  Morgane beamed, "I work very hard on them."

"Do you really live in the Black Lake?" Hermione interjected quickly, an almost manic light brightening her eyes. "You don't look like the other mermaids in our books."

"Freshwater versus saltwater is a hot debate." Morgane winked. "You could say I'm  _visiting_." She seemed to almost glow faintly and all three girls had to gape as the scales melted away into skin, leaving her in a long skirt with a colour similar to her top and ultimately her tail. She stretched out her toes. "It's been awhile since I've used my legs, give me a moment…"

She maneuverer herself into a kneeling position, preparing to stand when Hope offered Morgane her hands, which Morgane gratefully took in order to heave herself into an upright position. Unfortunately for the both of them, Morgane overestimated Hope's strength, and Hope underestimated Morgane's ability to remain standing.

" _Oof!"_

Morgane toppled down on top of Hope.

"I think I've broken something," Hope groaned loudly, her ribs protesting as Morgane rolled off to settle on the ground beside her, evidently deciding not to take another chance with standing, the other two giggling at the pair of them. "I might recover sometime this week."

"Oh, don't be so  _weak,"_  Morgane waved a hand carelessly. "You'll be  _fine_ …what did you summon me for exactly?"

"I wanted you to take a look at this," Hope said, pulling the chest forward and opening it for Morgane and her friends to take a look inside.

Morgane's eyebrows rose high on her forehead, looking inside with a bit of interest. "Hm…a lot of good quality gear, you might need to get the compass refitted into some new leather…but this…" Morgane reached inside and grabbed the parchments that were marked maps. "You must've gotten these from another pirate? It would be concerning if the Red Coats had this."

"What is it?" Hermione asked in confusion, cocking her head just slightly.

"It's a list of the pirate ports, well, the ones we used to have," Morgane had to acquiesce. "This must be an old map…several of these were decommissioned after the Red Coats got wind of them."

Hope grabbed ink and a quill from Hermione's bag without bothering to ask, earning her a disapproving noise from the brunette. "Which ones aren't active anymore?"

Morgane took the quill from her and started making crosses and dots, crossing out the ones that were no longer functional and marking new ones that Perenelle had not previously had, but that made sense, as she hadn't been a pirate for centuries before her death.

"Be careful in Singapore, it's the biggest one," Morgane explained, handing it back to Hope, "some of the pirate crews are good quality, but others can be as unpredictable as the sea, then you have to worry about  _them_  on  _top_ of the Reds…but if you ever see Madame Jiaying Liu tell her I say hi, you know, if you'd survive." Morgane's eyes twinkled. "She's a grandmother now, I hear, and supposedly her family has a skill with dragon fire."

"Where do pirates find these people?" Daphne muttered in bemusement, shaking her head.

" _Dragon_  fire?" Hope was still blinking in incomprehension.

"It's not that pirates are finding them," Morgane said, giving a small nod to Hope in agreement, "it's that  _they_  are finding  _pirates_  because they are pushed to by circumstances outside of their control."

"What d'you mean?" Hermione frowned, intrigued by where the conversation was going.

"Elpis," Morgane said instead and Hope's eyes flashed to hers, "can you tell me the species of the pirates on Nomia's crew."

" _Oh!"_  Hope lifted her hands to start ticking them off on her fingers. "Bridger's human, William's a werewolf—"

"A werewolf out at sea?" Daphne asked doubtfully.

"He's a born werewolf that can control his shift, not like Remus," Hope explained quickly before moving on. "I think Cora was part fae, but she didn't bring it up much, Simon was definitely a Veela—"

"Would you say, then, that the  _majority_  of Nomia's crew is made up of non-humans?" Morgane countered and Hope paused.

She'd never really thought about it much since Nomia had originally explained how some crews preferred all creatures and others all humans, while some didn't particularly care and had a mix of the two. There couldn't have been more than five humans on Nomia's crew, now that she thought about it.

"Mostly, yeah," Hope had to agree.

"Every magical community has their prejudices," Morgane informed them, "though I will say that the English are by far the  _worst_ , so you have my condolences."

Hope wrinkled her nose, but she couldn't deny it. She'd always known that things were rather difficult for Remus to make a living unless he chose to work in the Muggle world, which was what she assumed he'd done before he became the tutor to her, Hermione, and Daphne, and, more recently, Astoria. Hope assumed it was still going well, Remus hadn't given any indication otherwise.

"Being a pirate starts to sound like a good idea when its free to room and board and food is shared amongst the crew, and, if your captain is fair, you get a pretty even percentage of the loot that you salvage…a lot of magical communities aren't as good about it."

"I thought the Greek one was pretty good," Hope muttered half-heartedly.

"Well, the Greeks are used to the weird and strange, Greece is like a nexus for the abnormal," Morgane snorted, "but trust me, they've got their problems as well."

Hope looked down at the map once more. "These Red Coats…why are they…" She couldn't quite form the correct word in her brain, but, luckily, Morgane got her meaning.

"Why are they the way they are?" she offered and Hope nodded.

Morgane sighed, her eyes growing distant and Hope was supposing that she was thinking of the time she'd spent aboard one of the vessels of the Red Coats until she'd realized what they did and abandoned ship, swimming for the nearest mermaid establishment.

"Originally, I think they served a higher purpose, that they had a calling back when pirates were more like looting crusaders, leaving only rubble and flames in their wake," she admitted, "Redcoat was a term given to those that were a part of the British Army because they wore these distinctive coat…I believe once I heard one joke that it was a good thing they were red, or no one would be able to wash the blood out."

Hermione appeared rather green at the nonchalant way Morgane had spoken and Daphne looked unnerved, but, to her credit, Hope was unfazed, she, after all, had been the only one to see the Red Coats in action, albeit for a very short period of time, though one that would be burned into her memory for a very long time.

Only cold experience could cause Morgane to be so unaffected by what she was saying, the same kind of experience that turned the look in Hope's eyes hollow.

"You won't find a creature on the crew of any of the ships captained by Red Coats," Morgane said simply before correcting herself, "well, not willingly, anyways…I've heard they're not above chaining up some to kill other pirates, which is frankly  _disgusting_ , but not outside the realm of possibility…" Morgane's lips curled somewhat in her disgust. "But the point is…they don't like non-humans, much like your Death Eaters didn't like…what's your word for non-magical folk, again?"

"Muggles," Hermione informed her dutifully and Morgane nodded seriously.

"Muggles," she agreed, "Death Eaters don't like Muggles and Muggle-borns. You can think of the Red Coats as the pirate alternative to the Death Eaters, but the Red Coats are more cohesive and dangerous, and they know that knowledge comes from power, ancient power… the Dark Lords of your country sought immortality in more ways than one, but the leader of the Red Coats doesn't need something he already has, power, on the other hand, that's something he maintains after all these centuries."

Hope's brow furrowed. There had to be a reason, though, for the leader of the Red Coats to be the way he –if it was a he– was, something that drove him.

"Honestly, I still have  _no idea_  why the Red Coats are so determined to end pirates, especially the non-human beings on the crews," Morgane admitted. "Maybe its revenge, maybe its fear, maybe it's the desire to be above those they deem inferior…maybe there's a higher being pulling the strings, even I'm not sure…But it's best not to dwell on it, Elpis. Some people can't be reasoned with, some people are just cruel and cold and their reasons for being so have long since been forgotten.""

That, Hope found, was not comforting in the slightest.

* * *

Hope was starting to realize that she had now developed a tendency to go off on her own without her friends since the school year had begun and she was starting to feel a bit bad about it.

But she also wasn't sure about bringing them all the way down to the Marina in Greece, especially since pirates were generally incredibly paranoid about outsiders coming into designated ports.

Hope tried not to draw too much attention as she made her way down the cobbled streets, searching for one shop in particular, the blacksmith's shop.

It wasn't too hard to find, as she soon discovered, easy to spot with the steady column of smoke rising from the chimney. Hope pushed the door open, causing the bell on the door to jingle, to which a voice called from the back: "Be right with you!"

Hope herself was quite interested with the assortment of weapons around her, sharpened steel and iron, some shiny and some dulled. She moved to stand where there were an assortment of daggers and knives on the walls. They were painfully sharp and some even had ornate carvings, but there was one that was solid black.

She lifted it off the wall, holding it in her hand.

"Careful with that," a voice mentioned behind her and Hope turned to see a man with a face blackened with soot and smoke, his beard fully and wiry with twinkling eyes.

"Its heavy," Hope noticed, still weighing it in her hand.

"It works best for throwing," the man informed her before extending his hand. "May I?"

Well, it wasn't really hers in the first place, so Hope handed it over easily, eyebrows rising high at how casually he flipped the blade up in his hand before drawing back and tossing it. Her eyebrows inched even higher at how it lodged into the wood of the door.

" _Wow,"_  she found herself admitting, "impressive." Even she wasn't sure herself if she was talking about his aim or the blade itself.

He moved around her to yank the dagger out of the door, this time getting a good look at her. "I remember you," he realized, "you were that monster killer girl, the one that cut off the head of that Cerastes that showed up here a month or two ago…Serpent Tongue?"

"That's what they call me," Hope shrugged, taking the hand he offered, "Elpis Slytherin, or El, I'm not too picky."

"Well,  _El,"_  he said putting an awful lot of emphasis on her name, perhaps more than was necessary, but it made Hope crack a smile, which might've been his intent, "I'm the blacksmith here, the name's Adrian."

Hope tried not to let it show that his name bothered her, thinking briefly of Adrian Slytherin and his darkness before she could aggressively push the thought down.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking to have a sword made," Hope said, leaning against the counter and bringing out a folded parchment from within her pocket and extending it to him.

He gave her a look as he unfolded it and Hope turned pink. "I'm not the best artist," she had to admit.

"That much is  _obvious."_

She tried hard not to roll her eyes and scowl.

"But I've had worse," he had to concede. "A broadsword, yes?"

Hope nodded.

"What kind of metal d'ya want?" Adrian asked, making notes on a slip of parchment.

"Aegean Iron," Hope said swiftly and that made him pause and look her up and down. Hope was rather unassuming with her hair done in curls and casually wearing her jeans, looking rather like she should be lounging around in some park and enjoying the sun, but here she was, at a pirate port trying to get a sword made.

"Planning on any more monster killing?" he asked mildly.

"I'll take what I can get," Hope fired back in retort, which only served to make him grin.

He gave her a price and said "I'll even throw in the dagger," which Hope hadn't been expecting at all, but she found it rather interesting, so she decided to say nothing and just hand over the gold.

"One more thing—" Hope yelped in pain as he grabbed her hand and cut deeply along her palm, red springing instantly from the wound and he caught the droplets in a small tin, apparently delighting in her outrage. "Works better when its infused with your blood."

Hope muttered something unsavoury under her breath that made Adrian grin as he offered her a cloth to press against the wound. This time Hope didn't bother to stifle the full-on glare that she tossed in his direction before leaving and slamming the door shut extra hard behind her.

* * *

Aggie was barely sleeping, the words of the Fates still ringing in her ears. Galen's concern had been touching, but she didn't dare to think of if that prophecy had meant him or Hope, but her mind conjured up the images regardless. Hope pale and bloodless, eyes unseeing; Galen clutching at his chest as blood fell from his wounds before he collapsed.

She viciously shook those thoughts out of her head.  _No, she wouldn't let that happen!_

The lamp at her bedside flickered once and most ominously, casting shadows over the book in her hands. She hadn't yet opened the  _Necronomicon,_  maybe because she was afraid doing so would cause the prophecy to come to pass, which was ludicrous, as prophecies could never be outrun, perhaps forgotten or denied, but that didn't cause them to cease by force of will.

Aggie opened the  _Necronomicon_  to gaze down on the pages. There were symbols instead of actual words and for a moment they were utterly useless until Aggie realized that they all made complete sense to her.

So, she began to read, all the while thinking of how cruel Death was.

* * *

"Doesn't any of that make you want to stop being a pirate?"

Hope, Hermione, and Daphne were hanging out in Morea's Secret Room, very much aware that it was getting close to curfew. A year ago, Hermione would've cared more, but having both their map and Hope's invisibility cloak made it easier to stay later and not be seen re-entering their common rooms.

Hope was crossing a line through the word Banshee on the blackboard that she'd acquired from what Daphne could only suspect to be an unused classroom. There was a variety of names of creatures on the board, some of which she had listed under headings. Those were the ones classified in their Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Book; Basilisks, Demiguises, Dragons, Fairies, Ghouls, Griffins, Ogres, Veela, Ghosts, Dementors, and Sprites were among those listed. Then there were the ones from Greek Mythology, including: Godlings, Chimeras, Keres, and Cerastes, and those were the ones she was the most familiar with. Only a few of those ones were crossed out. Now she was under the Irish Mythology heading for Banshee.

Daphne had to wonder just how intensive this bestiary she was working on was meant to be, though she had to admit, it was far better use of her time than actually paying attention in Defence Against the Dark Arts, no matter what Hermione believed.

Hermione's question had caused Hope to pause, just making the chalk line through the last 'e' and then she twisted just slightly to look to where Hermione and Daphne were lounging on the couch. The shadows caused by the flames seemed to darken the scar that now stretched to the edge of her eye, but if Daphne shifted her head just slightly she could swear that there were three slashes through Hope's eye instead of one.

"Learning about the Red Coats or whatever they are?" Hermione probed.

"I saw the Red Coats in action," Hope said after a short and stilted silence, "what Morgane said just makes them a bit worse than I'd originally thought."

"But you'd still want to be a pirate." It wasn't even a question from Daphne, merely a statement of fact.

Hope inhaled deeply through her mouth and exhaled through her nose. "I don't know…but I've always been the happiest when I was out at sea…it was utterly endless and…" Her eyes shined a deep blue. "…and utterly  _beautiful_. I'm not sure if I could really be happy with what everyone else does." She dropped the piece of chalk and fell into the armchair. "You know, getting a job at the Ministry right out of school, marrying a school sweetheart, having children." Her expression faltered slightly. "Doing what my parents did," she had to admit.

She didn't even know if her parents had jobs after school or even what they specialized in, it was something she realized that she hadn't really asked Remus about.

"I don't want to be forced to be someone I'm not," she said finally before giving them a smile, "and what's more adventurous than being out at sea?"

"You are absolutely  _unreal,"_  Daphne laughed suddenly and Hope grinned wildly before pushing at her with her toes, causing Daphne to shriek in an effort to get away from her, which only earned them a laugh from Hermione. "Hermione, help!"

Hermione swatted them both with her book. "You two are the worst, the  _absolute worst!"_

" _Get her!"_

Hermione yelped loudly as she was suddenly crushed by the weight of her two friends.

"This is what happens when you're born before the rest of us, Hermione," Daphne said above her and Hermione grumbled under her breath before finally succeeding in pushing them both off of her.

"You're both  _menaces_  to society."

"Yeah, because conforming is always a good idea!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Daphne. "Have you both finished that essay for Charms?"

"What, no, of course not," Daphne responded. "That was assigned yesterday, Hermione!"

"I finished it." They both looked to Hope who was shuffling her Tarot cards that she'd pulled out of her bag. She pulled the first card up and frowned. "It's always  _Death,"_  she muttered to herself before realizing that she had both of their undivided attention. "I figured it was a good idea to get it out of the way."

"Is that because you wanted to work on the new teleportation thing or the bestiary thing?" Hermione asked before pausing. "Why are you always working on something might be a better question, Hope, don't you ever want to relax?"

"Meh," Hope shrugged, "I like to be kept busy, is all."

More like she didn't want to slow down, but Daphne thought it best not to comment on it.

"I've been doing a lot of reading on palmistry," she said instead, plopping herself in front of Hope while Hermione clamoured up onto the couch, Crookshanks, her cat that had a tendency to run off as though trailing after some unseen enemy, leaping up onto her lap once she'd settled, throwing a scoff in the direction of Daphne, which she ignored. They were all incredibly aware of the doubts Hermione had toward Divination as a whole, but the art still had merit to Daphne, Trelawney notwithstanding.

Hope forfeited her hand easily to her friend, who opened a book to palmistry.

Daphne inspected her hand closely. "I think you have an air hand, but I'm not really sure…that just has to do with your hand's shape…most people with air hands are mentally active, restless, and easily bored—"

"Sounds right  _so far,"_  Hermione grinned, petting Crookshanks' head and Hope glowered at her over Daphne's head.

"—They want to expand their knowledge and are logical in thought and do possess good intuitive capabilities, but you never know, I might be wrong." She sniggered suddenly at the look on Hope's face.

Now she was trailing her fingers over the different creases in her hand.

"Okay, so your heart line is littler shorter, but not too short…which means…" Daphne frowned at her book. "Which means that you have little interest in romance, which is  _pretty true."_  Hope snorted at that. "But there's also a circle on your heart line and that indicates depression and sadness…so stuff to look  _forward_   _to."_

Hope had to stifle her amusement into her hand this time. "Man, I should be getting my palm readings done only by you in the future."

Hermione giggled and Daphne ignored her.

"So, this is your head line," Daphne continued, tracing her finger over the crease, "it's meant to show your intellect. Yours is curved…which means that you're  _creative_  and  _spontaneous."_

"Maybe you should take over for Trelawney," Hermione was still giggling, "because you've been really spot on with Hope's palm."

"Oh,  _shut up."_

Hope grinned as Crookshanks let loose a rather petulant meow as Daphne continued on. "Your life line is right here," she said, sliding a finger down it before blinking in surprise. "Actually, you've got two, that's surprising…the book doesn't actually say what that means, maybe you live a double life?"

Hope sniggered loudly.

"They're both broken lines that have what looks like a square connecting the parts…" Daphne trailed off as she glanced down at the book once more. "And that means that although you'll experience illness or injury or danger –basically anything negative,  _good for you_ —" Hermione had to cough loudly to hide her amusement. "—you can turn danger into safety and recover from your injuries."

"Things to look forward to, I'm sure," Hope intoned dryly.

"And the last one is the fate line and it's this one." Daphne drew her finger down Hope's palm. "Yours is deep so you're strongly controlled by destiny…but there are breaks in it, which means that you're going to experience a lot of twists and turns…so basically, you're cosmically  _screwed."_

"Thanks for the completely accurate reading Madame Greengrass," Hope said flatly with an arched eyebrow as Daphne did a mocking sort of bow and Hermione howled with laughter.

Still, it was nice to relax and joke about things like Divination and forget for the briefest moment that anything terrible could happen at any time.

Hope remembered her query to Morgane before she had returned her legs to the scaled tail that it had once been and entered the lake once more.

" _A map of creatures is going to be helpful,"_  Morgane had had to concede, _"especially with your tendency to be attacked as a Godling, but you need to be careful with something like that. Like I said, people are prejudiced, humans even more so. Something like that could be incredibly dangerous for creatures, it could be used to hunt them down…just be cautious."_

And Hope had promised to do so, because she had a feeling that there was more to that astrolabe than met the eye.

* * *

_Dear Tom,_

_This week wasn't much better than the last. The other Slytherins still aren't being very nice to me, except for Daphne Greengrass and Hope Potter. Hope cursed my drapes and told me to come and get her if I had any problems with anything else, but they like her even less than me and I wonder how she does it. She's got thicker skin than me. And I didn't have the heart to tell her that I've been feeling out of sorts, waking up in places I don't remember going, but I didn't want to bother her. You don't mind that I tell you these things, do you Tom?_

_-Ginny_

* * *

"Okay,  _go big or go home_ , so check this out!"

Late in the week on the way to their Transfiguration class, Hope had whipped out her journal and showed it to her friends.

"What is it?" Hermione asked blankly and Hope groaned so loudly that she almost sounded like a pipe that was misbehaving.

"I decided to rework that idea of mine for teleportation," Hope explained. "My first plan was using gateways to make a sort of bridge between two places, that was thinking I'd start with bodies of water, because water is reflective, and mirrors are gateways…I did a  _lot_ of research." She gave them a sheepish grin.

"I'll bet," Daphne snorted. "Wouldn't you rather be doing something fun, you know, like sleeping?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Hope scoffed, flinging a hand as she did so. "You can get so much more done when you don't sleep…but, you know, I  _have_ been sleeping."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at just how petulant Hope sounded at the idea of sleeping, though she had to admit that there weren't any dark circles under her eyes –which had been at their darkest during the week of the final exams at the end of the last term– so she must've only awoken that morning with the same manic energy that she was presenting them with. That was impressive even by  _her_  standards.

"Anyways, I'm thinking that instead of finding a gateway, it would be easier to simply  _make one,_  because, you know, what if you're running around and you need one and there isn't one around?"

"Are you planning on doing a lot of running around, Hope?" Hermione asked with twinkling eyes and Daphne sniggered loudly.

"I'm just trying to be  _realistic!"_

Really, Hope should stick to sketching runes rather than anything else –though Daphne hadn't seen the strange looking box several pages back– because what she'd drawn appeared to be a misshapen sort of gap, strangely shaded, with different words in Greek pointing to it.

"Okay, hang on—" Hope hooked her bag on Hermione's shoulder without even asking and took the journal from Daphne. "I'm not sure what I'm going to call it, maybe something like ' _Gating'_  or ' _Ripping',_  but it's essentially making a rip that connects two places together—"

"And are you sure you should be reading about it out loud?" Hermione asked sharply, the voice of reason.

"Oh, no harm ever came from reading a book," Hope remarked with a lack of concern, making a slice-like motion with her hand before turning around as walking backwards. "So, its… _Afíste ton kósmo na syndetheí—"_

Hermione yelped first when the air behind her friend appeared to split like a swaying mirage and Hope's eyes widened as she dropped through the opening, leaving only the journal behind.

"Hope!"

* * *

Hope tried not to freak out when she first found herself unable to breathe and deep under water. It was so shockingly cold that Hope lost her breath instantly, struggling in her attempt to reach the surface. Her face broke through just as the burning in her lungs became too painful to bear.

She only got a short gulp before a wave pushed her under again, catching sight of a shadowy figure with flowing eyes, then she started the cycle again, beating her way to the surface, this time giving her the chance to take in her surroundings. The echoes of cannons pierced the air as water rained down on her from the heavens.

Hope blinked the water out her eyes, surging back as someone was thrown overboard with a terrified yell. The ship's back had only two words on it:  _The Concorde._

"Léon's ship!" Hope murmured to herself, remembering the angry young French captain and she swam quickly towards it, grabbing onto the knotted rope net on the side of the ship and hoisting herself out of the water.

Her waterlogged hair clung to her skin and Hope was definitely not dressed for being deposited into the Atlantic. Luckily, Hope never wore her skirt without thick tights underneath, no matter the weather, or else she was certain that she would be in an even worse mood.

She pulled herself up at long last, with a huff of breath, keeping her head low as she looked on. There was a ship flying a red flag opposite the Concorde, some red-coated men were swinging over on ropes to battle against the pirates serving on Léon's crew.

"Why couldn't it've dropped me on some beach?" Hope bemoaned to herself before pulling herself over the edge and onto the ship, grabbing up the nearest discarded sword that she could find. One of the Red Coats spotted her before anyone else and lunged for her.

Hope acted instinctively, bringing the sword –which was just a bit heavier than her usual broadsword and a bit cumbersome in her grip, but it was the best she had at the moment– up and stabbing it forward.

It went through his stomach and out his back and Hope had to push him back off the sword, his hands clutching at the wound she'd made. In the back of her mind there was a voice saying that he was eventually going to bleed out from the injury, though not as quickly as the tragic Vivienne had. It was something that made her heart ache, but here Hope was only defending herself against very same enemies that had done so much damage the last time she'd seen them. Did they really deserve anything less from her? And that thought made Hope feel rather uncomfortable, because she was just so… _accepting_  of it, of causing death, and it was definitely something she would have to revisit later, when she wasn't likely to lose her head.

Hope ducked suddenly to avoid a sword with a yelp and threw her free fist forward in retaliation, punching the next one squarely in the nose.

"What the  _fuck?"_  came a demand, followed by, "Hey, aren't you that Serpent Tongue girl?"

Hope blinked. She wasn't looking at a Red Coat this time, but a young woman with a sharp sword locked over her stub of an arm as a very lethal prosthesis.

"Uh, hi," Hope said conversationally as she stabbed her sword over the girl's shoulder and into the Red Coat's eye socket. "Love to chat, but, you know—" She twisted away from the befuddled expression on the woman's face to avoid the bullet for a Red Coat's gun.

Léon de Grammont was the easiest to catch sight of, given his typical attire, making it look like he'd stepped right out of a seventeenth century fire fight. Hope had to admire that kick he gave to a Red Coat's solar plexus right before he slit his throat.

She rushed up the steps, stabbing into the second one going for him, so that when Léon twisted around, the man crumpled to the ground.

"I  _had_ that!" Léon complained before scowling at the sight of the girl before him, still dressed in her school uniform, her hair black and eyes green.

Hope was vividly reminded of their last conversation.

" _Do you always do what people expect?"_  he'd asked her in regards to wearing that colour for her hair and eyes instead of what he'd originally seen her in.

"What the  _fuck_ are you doing here?" Léon demanded.

"Saving your life, apparently," Hope intoned before they both stabbed at the wildly yelling Red Coat that came racing up the stairs to have a go at the only two people next to the helm, their backs almost completely to one another.

"Wow,  _really?"_  he drawled. "It's not like I'm doing fine on my own."

Irritation was welling up inside her. How on earth did he manage to be so  _utterly infuriating_? She'd never know, but he made her grate her teeth every time he opened his mouth.

" _Oh, yeah?"_  she snarled, grabbing the flintlock pistol strapped to his thigh and firing it over his shoulder. He didn't even blink at the sound, only staring as a Red Coat fell from the rope he'd intended to use to swing up onto  _the Concorde._

Hope was so surprised that it had actually hit its mark, as she had never used a pistol before, let alone one as old fashioned as the one she now held.

"Lucky shot," Léon decided after a moment with a derisive snort and Hope scowled at him in annoyance as he grabbed the pistol back. "And give me  _that_  before you shoot my eye out by mistake!"

"If I was going to shoot your eye out, Léon de Grammont," Hope nearly sneered, "it wouldn't be  _by accident."_

For some reason that made him grin widely and Hope was starting to think he was always rude and crass and that it was impossible for him to be anything but.

"If you're going to be  _utterly useless,"_ he threw over his shoulder as he fired into the crowd of red that was still swinging onto his ship, "then at least take the helm before we knock into the fucking Reds!"

" _Oh, shite!"_  was the first thing out of Hope's mouth, twisting to see the wheel spinning and feeling the lurch of the ship towards the Red Coats' and Hope practically threw herself onto it, getting the feeling that Léon was somehow going to make that her fault; it seemed like something he'd do.

She grabbed two handles and then spun the wheel quickly in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding hitting the next ship and causing such a lurch that several people shouted up to her: " _Hey, watch it!"_

"Sorry!" Hope shouted back before muttering feverishly under her breath. "Okay, I can do this…I can do this…" which was only to counteract the steady thrum of  _'I can't do this, I can't do this'_  that was now echoing inside of her head.

Hope really had no idea what she was doing, she was just fucking her way through steering this ship at this point, and if everything went smoothly, then she'd be set.

But Hope was  _never_  so lucky, and they were still in firing range, and she almost pitched completely over the wheel.

"Do you even _know_  what the _fuck_  you're  _doing?"_  Léon roared as he duelled with another Red Coat, who was pushing him back up the stairs to where Hope was struggling with her grip on the wheel.

" _NO!"_  Hope snarled. "I don't  _fucking know_   _what I'm doing!_  Do I  _fucking look like I know what I'm doing?"_  She ducked as an arrow lodged in the door behind her.

Léon gave her a dry stare, which Hope thought he managed quite well.

"Here's a thought," she threw in his direction, "it's  _your_  fucking ship, why don't _you_  take the wheel, jack-arse!"

He acted like he hadn't even heard her and Hope's aggravation grew. "Why, I  _oughta—"_  Hope muttered under her breath when she caught sight of a fallen Red Coat pulling something bright out of his pocket and loading it into his gun, aiming it at Léon's back.

Hope might've had a lot of thoughts about the French Bastard, but, in this moment, they were on the same side and he hadn't seen his enemy waiting to fire a shot. She abandoned her post and flung herself down the stairs.

"Léon, look out!"

The gun went off and Hope pushed the boy out of the way in time for something to rip into her shoulder, at the top of her arm, burning and excruciating. She was too startled to scream from the pain of it, though the pain was quite great.

She clutched weakly at her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her blood spilling just as constant as the rain pattering down on her. Her eyelids were drooping when a pistol went off and Léon's would-be killer collapsed, unmoving, allowing Léon to reach Hope's side, only to turn his head back in the direction of the Red Coats' ship, open his mouth and let loose a piercing scream.

Hope's eyes flared wide as she watched the air in front of him ripple. She barely even saw the resulting explosion from where the scream connected. The last thing Hope saw before everything faded to blackness was a pair of befuddled hazel eyes that belonged to a Banshee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys all enjoyed the Christmas update! I know a lot of people were looking forward to Léon popping up in the fic once more and I hope you all weren't disappointed, as there is definitely more to come. And he and Hope will definitely not be a pairing.
> 
> He and Hope fighting was what I enjoyed the most out of this chapter, to be honest. And we'll probably be seeing more of the Blackwoods later on as they are rather important in book 2's plot.


	25. A Bond of Necessity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to reiterate because apparently there's been some confusion. When I began this fic, it was intended to be Geope, that being said, it was also meant to be a carbon copy of LB only with Hope in Slytherin instead, so obviously there have been a lot of changes. Based on the direction ST is going, being with George doesn't make a lot of sense for Hope.
> 
> Léon and Hope are still not a pairing, and I'm glad people were excited about the reveal of him as a banshee.
> 
> This fic is super AU at this point, and its going to stay that way.

This wasn't a situation that Léon was familiar with, he was used to having his crew have his back and his distaste for Elpis Slytherin had only grown from the first day that they'd met. It was only luck that she wasn't completely useless.

Still, unknowingly taking a deadly bullet for him wasn't something he was about to forget in a hurry.

"Well, she's alive," Laudine, his first mate, conceded, digging her fingers into the wound, making Elpis wince even in her unconscious state. It took a few moments to remove the golden bullet and throw it over the side of the ship. "It's the best we can do right now."

"Get her below before someone else loses a head," Léon growled as he fired a shot over Laudine's shoulder. "And while you're at it, sear that wound shut!"

Her eyes fluttered open a sliver and Léon saw solid black before Elpis faded back into unconsciousness once more, opening his mouth to release another piercing scream.

* * *

Hope's dreams were more often nightmares than anything else, no doubt an effect of the Gates, as Con had told them, but this one was strange and not all together frightening.

She was collapsed face first into the ground, metal rods around her, a small puddle next to her hand, wet with blood.

Hope felt the pain first, more viscerally than anything else, it seemed to be coming from everywhere, she wasn't even sure if she could pinpoint exactly where it had begun.

She leaned back slightly with difficulty, only to stop and realize she was tugging at something painful embedded in her abdomen. Everything was burning as she looked down into the small puddle.

Her eyes blew wide at the face reflected them. The loose bronze hair and dark eyes she preferred, but the locks had been hacked short like someone had taken a blade to them, but that wasn't the most startling part. Three slashes cut a slant into her face, deeply over her eye, just missing it, and it looked like lightning had cracked across her brow in the stead of a single bolt.

Hope could feel herself gaping, but she didn't have much time to think about it, because the next thing she knew she could hear the sound of boots sinking into wet dirt.

A smirk curved across her mouth. "You should've brought more men," she said before everything faded in a flash and when Hope opened her eyes she found that she was screaming as someone pressed red-hot fingers to her shoulder.

"I know it's a bitch," the woman above her said, "but unfortunately there's no healer on this vessel and its better than you bleeding out… though the wound isn't too bad,  _considering."_

Hope winced painfully as the woman removed her fingers and Hope realized that she was the woman that had been caught off guard by her sudden appearance, the one that had a sword prosthetic instead of an arm.

"If you can still fight that would be helpful," the woman said and Hope gritted her teeth as another spasm of pain ran down her arm. "Besides, you're with the Golden Fleece, right?"

Hope could feel her heart stop. "Yeah?" Even if she and Nomia weren't talking, she still liked William and Bridger, she still thought fondly of the rest of the crew.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but it looks like most of the crew is dead."

Hope stared at her uncomprehendingly, thinking of Nomia bright and burning as she swung her sword at Hope, William and Bridger as they linked arms and laughed, Cora's blazing smile, the flutter of Abdul's fingers and Isabella's steady voice to translate, Lionel's roar of laughter, Marisol's cheeks perpetually flushed, Terra's constant complaints of the swaying of the ship, Rene's sea shanties always filling the air, Adalina flirting with everyone in sight…there were so many.

The woman's words echoed dully in her head and Hope gritted her teeth together.

"Sword," Hope said hollowly. Her other arm was unhindered and Hope could no longer feel the pain from her arm, only a numbing sensation through her whole body.

The next thing she knew, her hand was clenching the hilt of the cumbersome sword, white-knuckled.

"On your feet, Slytherin, there's work to do."

Hope pulled herself up, ears ringing as she stepped after the woman who had left quickly up the stairs. The air was still filled with shouts and cannons firing and bullets flying, but Hope's eyes were drawn to the third ship that she hadn't noticed initially.

The  _Golden Fleece_  was on fire. She could see Lionel was hanging off the edge, blood seeping there. She knew more bodies were strewn across the ship; it was overrun with Red Coats, their distinctive coats brighter with the flames.

Hope took a deep breath as her limbs shook.  _She couldn't think about it, she couldn't think about the bodies—_

It was a fruitless attempt and rage burned white-hot in her veins.

Apparently, her ability to create gateways was negligible at best, so Hope was going to have to rely on Flashing for the time being. But for a brief moment she imagined running away, using the gateway she had before to make it back to Hogwarts, but Hope was so turned around it would've never worked. Being absent-minded was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place; she didn't even know how she was going to get home, Hope's faith in her spell was too shaken for that. She needed to keep her focus in the moment this time.

Hope stepped sideways and almost choked on the flames and smoke and standing two feet from Cora's fallen form. Hope couldn't see her face, but she could see those golden curls stained red, they were  _unrecognizable._

She twisted in time to see Marisol tossed aside like a rag doll and Hope couldn't stop the roar of outrage and sorrow. She was sure she didn't look like much, all of twelve and still wearing her school uniform, the silver and green tie fluttering in the wind, holding a sword that was just a bit too cumbersome in her grip.

The rage writhed inside her like a snake and she barely heard the "Look, there's another one left."

She wasn't Hope Potter anymore, she was Elpis Slytherin, the Serpent Tongue, the protegee to the Demon of the Sea, and there was  _vengeance_  in her blade.

Hope didn't stop to consider anything, her blood was pounding in her ears and all she could see was red.

Later she'd have to be told everything that happened, because it felt more like an out of body experience than anything else, like Hope was watching from the side-lines as her body barrelled forward, striking sharply.

" _Red Coats are ruthless,"_  Nomia's words echoed in her head.  _"Out on the seas there are no laws, it's a game of survival, kill or be killed. If there's one aiming at you, its to kill; respond in kind."_

The tips of her fingers blackened, dark veins spreading up her arms. Black cracks seemed to split her skin at the edge of her eyes as Hope released a loud roar.

* * *

Daphne's knuckles were tight around Hope's journal. Having to explain that Hope had vanished through some kind of opening was exhausting. The first thing that she'd noticed of the other teachers was clear doubt.

The spell Hope had cooked up must've been fairly advanced, which wasn't really a surprise. Hope was a genius when it came to her magic, her mind worked a mile a minute, thinking up spells and magical items faster than she could write them down.

Her ranking in her schoolwork was dipping towards average in everything except Ancient Runes, but Hope hadn't had much of a care for that, especially when school started up. Her skill was Earth Magick, wand-magic must've been a complete  _bore_  to her overactive mind, and Hope always needed something to do.

She handed the journal over to Hermione and the brunette's face tightened. Inside that journal was Hope's private thoughts, her ideas, random things she'd heard. It was far too private and Daphne could imagine the look on Hope's face if she found out someone looked at journal without her permission.

"Let's go over this again," the man from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes said and Daphne scowled.

"I  _told_  you," she insisted with crossed arms, "Hope was walking with us, she was telling us about this spell she'd developed, a teleportation spell like apparition."

"A twelve-year-old developed a way to travel simultaneously without apparition?" his partner was fairly dubious. "And  _without_  a wand?"

Hermione frowned beside Daphne. "Hope's specialty is wandless magic." She was getting irritated about the sheer amount of doubt people put in Hope's magic skill, but even she wouldn't say the words 'Earth Magick' out loud, given that it was still technically considered a Dark Art. Hermione didn't approve of it much, but she wasn't about to get Hope in trouble for something she loved.

"I don't suppose you'd know what the incantation was exactly? Or the wand movement?"

Hermione's lips tightened in annoyance. She wasn't one to go against authority, that was Hope's specialty, still, she'd seen Hope perform magic without her wand, even if wandless magic was rare in the UK, it wasn't in other parts of the world.

"It was Greek," Daphne informed him flatly, unimpressed. "Her wand was in her bag. The gateway seemed to open up behind her and she fell through. Can we go now?"

Remus had to be far more concerned about Hope's sudden disappearance, but he wasn't technically her guardian, as an heiress of an ancient family with no living parents, Mindy was actually in charge of her, even though she still answered to Hope. And as Mindy was a house-elf no one had felt the need to inform her (Hermione had glared when the Ministry wizards had said 'it' instead of 'she' or 'her') of her missing mistress.

"Should we have given them the spell?" Hermione asked her as they walked down the empty hallway.

Daphne's shoulders sagged thinking about Hope's steely glare. "Yeah, I'd actually like to  _live_  until I hit majority…that journal's private, anyways, and it's not our property." Of course, Daphne still took it and flipped it open to the last page where Hope had read out the spell that had resulted in her disappearance.

Her untidy scrawl was across the entirety of the page accompanied by a diagram of what first looked like a doorway but Hope had clearly put a thick black 'x' through it and drew a separate image beside it, almost in the shape of a rhombus but with less sharp edges. There were arrows and words, some circled and some crossed out. The page clearly showcased the manic way Hope's thoughts came to her.

Hope would rather have her head stuck in her Earth Magick book than be stuck in a class focusing on wand magic.

"There's got to be some way to find out where she is," Hermione complained.

Daphne frowned thoughtfully. "There's always Hedge magic, I suppose…" Nana was the last Hedgewitch in the family and she had been forever trying to get Daphne and Astoria to follow in her footsteps, to her mother's dismay.

"Hedgemagic?" Hermione's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "I've never heard of that."

"Well, I guess it's kinda like Earth Magick," Daphne tried to come up with a way to describe it. "I mean, Earth Magick is physical magic, Hedgemagic is kind of the opposite, its spiritual magic… _mostly_. Healing, lucid dreaming, astral…" Daphne's eyes grew distant. "Astral projection…"

Astral projection involved separating the soul from the physical body and, as an out of body experience, the user could send their soul wherever they chose.

"Would that work?" Hermione asked, her eyes sharp, remembering the term.

Daphne froze, mulling it over. She remembered Hope describing her first attempt at lucid dreaming, but that was less focused than astral projection…still, Daphne was unskilled in Hedgemagic.

"It  _could_  work," she decided. But it could also go very wrong, too. "We're gonna need some things."

It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, and unfortunately the best one either of them had at the moment.

Daphne laid down on the couch in front of the fire in Morea's Room, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing -in and out, push and pull, fire and water…

Her mind emptied slowly but surely and she tried to imagine her body moving without actually moving.

"Hope," she breathed and opened her eyes to carnage.

"Oh,  _shite,"_  was the first thing out of her mouth.

"What is it?" Hermione's disembodied voice jolted her from where it sounded at her side.

"What was the name of that ship Hope spent a week on?" Daphne found herself asking.

"The…the  _Golden Fleece_  wasn't it?"

" _Double shite_ ," Daphne said faintly. "The ship's on fire and it looks like everyone's dead…except, hang on, I think I see Hope!"

At least, Daphne thought it was Hope, but she'd never seen her friend so enraged, but the black veins pulsing at her arms and cracking around her eyes was something she'd seen before, albeit only briefly.

Her hair was falling out of its elaborate plait and the sword in her grip was dripping with blood, the other was pressed against the throat of the one of the men in the red coats that remained, the black veins seeming to leech from his skin until he fell and she ripped off something that had been dangling from his throat.

Daphne's eyes widened. The man was definitely dead and the next thing she knew, so were the last three, one by Hope's sword, another by a ball of flames she threw from the palm of her hand, and the other by a sound that cracked like lightning.

Then there was a boy, his dark blue sleeves stained, grabbing her from behind and trying to wrench her towards the edge of the ship and that was when she started screaming.

" _NOMIA!"_

Daphne jolted back into her body like a coil returning to its shape once more, letting out a gasp as she sat up.

"What is it?" Hermione asked again. "You said everyone was dead on the  _Golden Fleece?"_  Fear and worry clouded her eyes.

The bile burned in Daphne's throat. "Hope…I don't know, it was like she was in a  _rage_ …I've never  _seen_  her so angry. She was screaming for Nomia."

Hermione's lips thinned into a line, remembering the last (and first) time they'd seen the pair interact. Hope hadn't spoken of her since.

Daphne tried not to think of Hope's hands. Had she actually drained that man's life force? She'd barely gotten a good look months ago when Quirrel had put his hands on Hope and the next thing they'd known his corpse had fallen and Voldemort's spirit had vacated his body.

" _Galen's got some kind of ability to travel through shadows, which sounds handy,"_ Hope had said with a laugh,  _"it does seem like Grandfather's style. But it's probably good Aggie and I escaped inheriting something like that."_

Daphne felt sick to her stomach.

* * *

Hope felt it when Léon punched her cheek, sending her crumpling against  _the Concorde_ , her face aching with the rest of her body. There was blood and rain drenching her uniform shirt and she'd lost her shoes at some point.

The banshee reached down and hoisted her up by the front of her shirt and Hope was so numbed from her aches and the sorrow of watching the  _Golden Fleece_  sink before she could find Nomia or even Bridger and William, they hadn't been among the bodies she'd seen, but Hope wouldn't even dare to hope without reason.

"You listen to me," he snarled, hazel eyes bright with fire, "You don't  _get_  to give up and shut down! You have two legs,  _you complete idiot!_  Get up and start walking on them! Keep moving forward!"

Hope was so startled that all she could do was stare as Léon released her, dropping her back to the floor, leaving her gaping after him as he stormed back to the captain's quarters, barking out orders.

"Hey, don't worry about him. He handles grief poorly." Hope looked up to see the woman that had seared the wound on her shoulder shut. She'd replaced the sword prosthetic for something that resembled an arm, made of a similar steel. "He expresses himself the best in explosive ways…at least at first." She was holding a sword in her hand and Hope's eyes caught on it.

Nomia's sword had always been rather unique and what Hope had called 'a bit much' when she'd seen her mentor use it, because the hilt was hollow and ended in a sharp knife which Hope had seen her draw out and swing around on a chain, incapacitating her enemy before running them through with her sword.

"I'm Laudine, by the way," Léon's first mate informed her before holding the sword out to her. "And…for what it's worth, I am  _truly_ sorry for your crew…I can't imagine what it must feel like for you."

Hope's heart felt like the sinking ship, dead and broken and full of pain and suffering. She could've spent a lifetime getting to know the  _Golden Fleece's_  crew and it still wouldn't have been enough.

She'd had a week, a week of perfection that ended in chaos with Vivienne's blood soaking through her fingers. But this…this was so much  _worse._

Hope didn't realize she was even reaching out for the sword until it was in her hands, a familiar weight.

"Elpis," she said finally and the woman gave her a faint smile.

"I figured," Laudine said. "Thanks for the assist, by the way…and I'm sorry, again, for Léon's…bedside manner, I guess. Nomia was his mentor, too."

Hope paused remembering Nomia mentioning that once with a snort.  _"He's a temperamental brat,"_  she'd said before turning her eyes on Hope,  _"but so are you."_

Léon appeared to explode on command but Hope preferred to stew in her anger, letting it fester like a wound, it coming out slowly in biting sarcasm. She probably hadn't ever really let loose her wrath…not until the attack on the Golden Fleece.

Her hand had never been steadier.

In a way Léon had been right, because as soon as they'd retreated she'd seemingly gone into shock, she didn't feel that she could move, let alone breathe. It was like the air had been punched out of her, she'd swayed on her feet. The world had frozen and suddenly it seemed so much more frightening.

Nomia had lived for thousands of years, through many, many battles, only to fall now.

Hope had never felt her own mortality more.

 _Is this really what you want?_  The darker side of her thoughts whispered deep within her.  _You just killed people in retaliation for the senseless murder of your friends. There's blood on your hands. You're a killer-!_

And that was when he'd hit her, like he'd known the direction her thoughts had been straying, like he was inside her head. It felt like that now, his words echoing, inspiring her forward. The look in his eyes had been wild, the eyes of a boy who'd lost his own mother and couldn't bear the idea of someone standing still in the wake of loss. There was only one direction to go:  _forward._

She hated that he was right, but she was astounded later to find that she didn't hate him.

"Are you all right? You seem out of it?" Laudine reached out a hand to touch her arm  _-a burning sensation blazing across her skin-_ and Hope flinched back, jarring the broken ribs she'd only just realized she had. She was feeling every inch of her bruised and broken body now. The ribs ached, her shoulder burned, there was a throbbing against her cheek and around her forearm, a sharp stinging to her forehead, and her spine was sending sharp pains down her back. And she was feeling her stomach roiling inside her at the slightest touch.

Hope didn't even know why she'd flinched or why she'd felt so sick. Léon had punched her, sure, but that was a minor thing, and Hope had been in such a rage before she could barely remember what happened on the  _Golden Fleece_. Had one of the Red Coats grabbed her and thrown her hard enough make her spine ache, kick her hard enough to snap ribs? Or maybe she was afraid of how that man had fallen with her hands barely on his skin.

She didn't even realize that Laudine had called for some bandages until the woman's face swam before her eyes. "Hey, Elpis?" she was speaking gently. "I'm going to try to touch you as little as possible, okay? But I'm going to wrap this bandage around your head, all right?"

Hope blinked at Laudine in befuddlement, looking from the bandage to her in confusion. "What?" she asked blankly.

"Your forehead is bleeding, Elpis," Laudine explained patiently. "I need to wrap it up."

Hope gingerly raised a hand to brush against her brow, bringing back wet crimson on her fingers. "Oh." One of them had pulled a wand on her, hadn't they? There'd been a flash of light that she was almost certain had been green. Or maybe it'd been blue? Or red? "You're asking permission?"

She could still remember Vernon Dursley almost yanking her arm out of its socket as he dragged her back into her cupboard under the stairs, or how Petunia liked to take a swing at her with pots. She hadn't really realized for a while that that kind of behaviour wasn't normal.

"Yes," Laudine said a flicker of surprise in her eyes and her voice. "No one should be allowed to touch your body without your permission."

Hope pressed her fingers to rub against her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose. "M'sorry," she muttered, "I don't even know why I'm reacting like this."

Laudine gave her a faint smile. "Well, you were thrown around a lot on the Golden Fleece, but…it might be something else." Her gaze had dropped to Hope's hands, the fingertips still blackened and the dark veins still clear as day. "I won't wrap your head if it makes you uncomfortable, but it's probably best that you don't move that shoulder." She gestured to one with the bullet hole that had been seared shut minutes ago.

Hope swallowed convulsively. "No, its fine, you can wrap it."

Laudine came in closer and Hope's shoulders involuntarily tensed, her breath quickening. It took effort to force the calm onto her face and throughout her body.

Thankfully Laudine took very little time to wind the bandage around her brow and step away from her, that kindly smile still on her face. She almost reached forward to squeeze Hope's shoulder comfortingly, but then she thought better of it.

"You'll be all right," Laudine said finally before walking away and leaving Hope to her darkest thoughts.

* * *

Léon's knuckles ached. It was probably poor form to punch her, especially in front of his whole crew, but Léon wasn't the best at thinking clearly in a crisis, all he could think about was his mother, his beautiful mother.

Médée de Grammont had leaned over him, her dreadlocks falling over her shoulder as she looked him seriously in the eye, the same shade of hazel that hers were. "Listen to me,  _mon Coeur_ , never stop moving forward, that's incredibly important. Standing still is so much worse."

But his mother had always seemed to be running from something, always looking over her shoulder, always ill at ease. Like the day she'd convinced the Demon of the Sea to train her son.

Léon wasn't really sure he knew how to express himself except violently and he was just itching to scream at her again, because there was something about her that gave him an absolute headache…

"Capitaine," Laudine saluted him clumsily with her recently reattached steel arm in the place of the sword she'd used in the battle. It looked like she hadn't connected it completely to the right nerves, but Léon wasn't going to point it out. "I don't think punching is the best way to solve your problems."

He arched an eyebrow. "S'been working so far," Léon remarked unconcerned.

Laudine sighed. "You didn't need to shout at her, Léon, or punch her in the face…people can only handle losing their crew to a certain degree."

Léon scowled at her. "She's stronger than she looks." He didn't even recognize the compliment leaving his lips, merely the honesty. He'd seen her cut off the head of a Cerastes without blinking, he'd seen her kick a Red Coat back onto a sword and watched her stay by Vivienne's side as she breathed her last breath, and he'd seen the way she'd ripped into those Red Coats today, half-trained and in a rage.

She was  _more_  than capable.

"That's not what I mean." Laudine's eyes sharpened. "She's not like you Léon, she's a kid who only got into this stuff a few months ago. Its hitting her like a  _train_. Léon, she would barely let me  _touch her."_

Léon had seen her put her hands on that Red Coat, her black bleeding from her eyes and thickening her veins. He'd gone down easily, and Léon had felt it when he grabbed her and yanked her back. It had been like a physical drain, and he definitely didn't think she'd had a skill like that before.

He wouldn't want anyone touching him if all he did was suck them dry.

"What did her forehead look like before you bandaged it?" he asked instead.

Her eyes narrowed and he got the feeling she wanted to reprimand him further but had realized that it was a losing battle, he was a lot like his mother in that respect.

"It looked like lightning had cracked the skin," Laudine said flatly. "I don't think she's really aware that she took an  _Avada Kedavra_  to the face."

* * *

"You seem to be in a bad mood," Thanatos' tone was rather mild in regards to who he was speaking and he received a glare for his efforts. "How is Egypt?"

His companion said nothing on that subject.

Thanatos wrinkled his nose, not really recognizing how alike he was to his many times granddaughter in that action alone. Really, these meetings were just an excuse to imbibe on godly drink and food with gods of the same focus.

Hades hadn't made an appearance in centuries, but Thanatos made a note of always showing up, even if he had to put up with Morrigan's outrageous flirting, Mictecacihuatl trying vainly to get everyone at the gathering to drink water instead of the godly equivalent of wine, and the Kings of the Ten Underworld Palaces debating battle strategy loudly (Huang Xile was the only one who appeared to be particularly into it).

Egypt wasn't in what he would describe as chaos, but one had to start to wonder why there were so many ghostly apparitions in the region…almost like their way into the Egyptian's Afterlife had been  _closed._

Thanatos was beginning to believe something had been stolen from Osiris, something he didn't want getting out, which explained why his right hand was practically silent.

Anubis had never been the most vocal, he had to concede. Thanatos didn't even think he's seen the god of funerals' face completely. Everything above his nose shrouded in black smoke like a shawl, forming two pointed years on either side of his head, jackal ears, soft golden light pouring out of the two eyeholes.

"Your granddaughter's name is Elpis Slytherin, correct?" the god asked suddenly and Thanatos paused, his brow tightening.

He had felt it the day Galen had sunk into the shadows of Greece and came out in Wales. He had felt it when the bones quaked in Aggie's presence. And he had certainly felt it the previous hour when Hope drained someone of their life essence completely.

Antioch hadn't been able to handle that power, but Hope…maybe Hope  _could._

"Yes," Thanatos said instead, "one of them."

"Hm," Anubis hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head in a vaguely dog-like manner. His finger was lazily swirling the water in the bowl before him in a lazy circle, watching the image of Thanatos' granddaughter losing her temper, his blood burning through her, draining life with a single touch.

Thanatos gave a silent sigh. He still remembered tragic Antioch, his eldest, just as wrathful as Hope had been in that moment. He could never again touch his lover or his new-born son once he'd inherited his father's gift. He could barely even eat, his touch rotting fruit. Thanatos' gift destroyed him.

Antioch had been his favourite child, though he loathed to admit it; he never liked playing favourites. He was quiet and calm and highly intelligent. He had contributed to much of the rune work that was published in that age.

"This body is all wrong," was the last thing he'd told his father, dark eyes wide and manic with same frenzied expression that his ancestor Adrian Slytherin had worn at the end of his life. "Why would you give this body a gift it couldn't handle?"

It only went downhill from there. Antioch wasn't a boastful man, he wouldn't have boasted to room of wizards that he had an unbeatable wand, and the truth was so much worse.

Orchestrating his own suicide.

It ached Thanatos in the place where his heart would've been.

"Hm," Anubis said again, head shifting down and speculating the girl who was recovering from a swift punch to the face.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Thanatos jabbed a finger in the Egyptian god's direction. "All my children are off limits!" Descendants was a mouthful and it was simpler to leave it at children; the Blackwoods had often been called the children of Death, so it was nothing new.

Anubis held up his hands, faintly amused by Thanatos' response. "I'm not thinking about that…it's  _something else."_  The Egyptian Gods weren't as well known for having relations with mortals, they left that to the Greeks.

"Something else?" Thanatos' brow furrowed and Anubis spared him a smile.

"Don't worry about it," was all Anubis said. "It's Afterlife business."

The Aztec goddess danced forward suddenly. "Anubis!" Mictecacihuatl cried. "Come help me!"

And Anubis let him be dragged off towards where Morrigan was making a fool of herself and Thanatos spared him a look before glancing down to the bowl Anubis had been using as his seeing eye. Whatever she'd ripped off the neck of the Red Coat she'd killed with her bare hands, she'd tied the strips of leather to the thick chain under her shirt that was connected to the heavy Ouroborus pendant. But whatever it was was tucked away before Thanatos could get a good look at it, hidden under her collar.

* * *

Hope had never been afraid of herself before, but it was hard not to be now. She couldn't make the black veins fade or the blackened skin at her fingertips lighten to her pallor. She'd grabbed an apple that had rolled against her and its vitality had been sapped, and she did nothing but watch it rot away in her hand until it was nothing.

She asked one of Léon's crew if he had any gloves she could borrow after that. They offered little protection, but it was better than nothing, Hope supposed.

She pressed her gloved hands against her face, careful of her bandage, trying not to think about the last time she'd seen her aunt.

_"Descendants of the gods have certain, shall we say, affinities? The farther back Thanatos' blood goes, the less gifts are imparted upon us…Supposedly some had a bit of a touch of death, but that was probably a rumour…"_

Hope's mouth went dry, looking down at her hands, and she was afraid.

The rest of the crew was in the barracks now, save for Léon who was manning the helm, but Hope was too far removed to care. She twisted the heavy opal ring she wore on her thumb.

"It's okay to want to take a step back," a sudden voice said beside her and Hope jolted painfully, twisting her head quickly to look beside her.

Her first thought had been that it was Laudine, back to check on her, patient and kind, but no, this wasn't her. This woman was just a bit older and slightly transparent. Her eyes were pale and her hair dark and her style of dress wouldn't have been out of place in the Dark Ages.

"Who're you?"

"My name is Morea," the apparition said and Hope positively goggled at her.

Morea, as in,  _the_  Morea, the wife of Salazar Slytherin, Morea of the Earth, Morea Avis, the most powerful Earth Witch?

"What?" the word parted from her lips blankly. If she could've summoned the dead before why hadn't she done so? She still remembered Salazar's reproachful face after the troll incident, when she'd attempted a spell out of her range. A little matter of poisoned blood seemed so small now.

"I see you're familiar with my name." Morea's eyes gleamed. "I would hope so if you're learning from my book."

It sounded like a reprimand but then Morea's lips twisted. "But books can only get you so far."

Hope narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Pretty sure Salazar told me that once."

Morea's transparent shoulders shook as she laughed. "Yes, that does sound like him," she said, her words so very fond, and Hope wasn't sure what else she wanted her to say, so she settled in the silence.

"Your spell was quite something."

Hope started in her surprise and she couldn't help but blink blankly at Morea. "Huh?"

Morea's eyes glittered. "Inventing spells was never my specialty. Salazar tried at it, but he was not quite as successful."

Hope couldn't help but balk. " _But,"_  she floundered, "the spells in your book—"

"Oh,  _that!"_  Morea laughed again, light and airy like her present form. "Really, it was just me writing down what my mother had taught my sisters and I…Earth Magick was old before I even wrote that book…but developing  _new_  spells? That was beyond my creativity."

Hope thought she might've died. The woman she greatly admired for her Earth Magick prowess was speaking in her own admiration of Hope's abilities. This was the  _only_  upside to her terrible day.

"You know," Morea's next words were so faint that Hope had to focus hard to hear her, "Nelda had some trouble with losing crewmembers when she was just starting as a pirate."

Hope twisted her head to look at her, stunned through her pain, through her sorrow. She was feeling a lot of things right now. Furious at herself for being a coward, for being too pissed at Nomia for forcing her to see the reality, that she'd made a mask to hide herself deep down ("Do you always do what people expect?" Léon's voice echoed in her skill). Enraged with the Red Coats for the slaughter of the  _Golden Fleece_ , of the loss of her friends, she nearly vibrated with the wrath she wanted to release on them tenfold. Miserable and full of sorrow, the image of the  _Golden Fleece_ burning in her mind, bathed in blood from the corpses still on the hull. And, startlingly enough, painfully at peace ("I didn't actually notice that you're calmer out at sea until you were on the ship," Nomia laughed, "you're like Nelda, what, can't handle being landlocked?").

But she couldn't bring herself to even utter a remark to Morea, still too raw emotionally.

"You're troubled," Morea noticed. "Tell me about it."

Hope's lips curved down. It reminded of the one time she'd been required to attend a therapy session -it had been a requirement for all students at the school she'd gone to- and had been forced to lie an hour straight else the Dursleys would've been displeased. "You're supposed to feel something, aren't you?" she asked finally. "When you kill people, aren't you supposed to feel something?" Her fingers twitched and she ached to touch something that wouldn't end in life being sucked from it, draining like blood from a wound. "I killed people on that ship and…I can't even  _feel it_. Not like when Vivienne died." Her eyes were cloudy. "I didn't kill her, but I couldn't save her…I still had nightmares for weeks." She still did.

Morea considered her. "I don't have all the answers, Hope, but do you think anyone on this ship is upset with you for killing those men?"

"No," Hope said automatically. How long had the Red Coats and the pirates been at odds? Centuries? More? You would be hard-pressed to find a pirate that hadn't been adversely affected by a Red Coat in one way or another.

"You were angry and they killed your friends," Morea said simply. "They would've killed you if you'd shown mercy…I think Nomia told you that once."

Hope flinched like a knife twisting inside her.

"My apologies, that was cruel of me." Regret coloured Morea's voice. "All I'm saying is…the point of view is  _different_. This Vivienne you spoke of…a pirate?" Hope nodded. "A pirate who you didn't injure but couldn't save compared to a band of Red Coats who killed your friends and went after you as well. One where you feel you didn't do enough opposing one where you did enough to save yourself once all others were killed. Guilt is a personal thing. But so is revenge."

Her eyes - _would they have been green like Salazar's? Faint like a leaf? Or maybe blue or grey? It was impossible to tell_ \- shifted towards Hope and her shoulders couldn't help but sag. "Gonna tell me revenge is a path of no return or a double-edged sword or—" There was always something, wasn't there? Some reason why revenge was a foul thing, why it garnered disappointment.

"So they say." Morea shrugged and for a moment Hope wished she wasn't quite so mild. "That's usually the excuse people give when they've never had a reason to seek it."

Hope couldn't help the scoff that broke from her lips, but she didn't deny it.

"You're going to make a fine Earth Witch," Morea decided fondly.

That had Hope staring, thinking of how many times she'd opened that book Morea had written, ideas running through her head, never seeming to slow down, wondering what was even the point of learning wand-magic when she found it so utterly boring. Remus was the one who was always telling her she was moving too fast, to slow down.

"Having conflict within you doesn't make you any less," Morea informed her kindly. "It means you have  _humanity."_

Hope thought about the black veins creeping up her arms under her gloves and she doubted so much. Morea gave her one last smile before fading and Hope tilted her head to the side slightly to look to the helm.

Hazel eyes considered her as she stood, ambling up the steps to lean against the side of the ship, trying to ignore the blooming headache behind her eyes.

Something heavy fluttered down on her arms and Hope blinked. It was a sturdy coat, long enough to brush against the ground and an earthy-brown.

"You'll catch your death of cold out here," Léon forced the words out like he was allergic to being nice.

Hope was so stunned -her cheek still aching from his fist- that she just pulled the coat over her shoulders, wrapping it securely around herself.

Léon didn't comment on how she patted the coat against her arm and frown, feeling none of the fire when Laudine had brushed her fingers against her.

"You aren't gonna have a breakdown on me, are you?" Léon asked her shrewdly, eyes narrowed and Hope's lips thinned. He winced. "That was rude, sorry."

"Aren't you always rude?" Hope arched an eyebrow and he scowled, jabbing a finger at her.

"Hey, Slytherin!" His eyes were fiery. "I'm  _trying_  to be nice!"

"You're failing," Hope replied dryly, " _epically."_

"Sacré bleu!" Léon growled. "You're a  _bitch."_

"And you're a bastard, glad we got that out of the way." Hope could feel an exhaustion seeping into her bones now. She lifted a finger to tap lightly against the bandage at her brow.

"Sorry about the punch," Léon said, still scowling intently at her, like she was giving him a headache.

Hope was startled by the apology, but then she shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I've been hit harder by my mother's sister."

That earned her a look caught somewhere between stunned and concerned, though she might've been misreading the concern, he didn't seem the type.

"Nomia told me I should piss you off," Léon informed her, looking dead ahead and correcting the trajectory of the ship. "She seems—" His breath caught like he'd been punched in the chest and Hope cracked her neck as she jerked her head sharply in his direction. "She  _seemed,"_  he corrected finally, "to think if you get mad enough you'll break whatever mask you're wearing…at least, that's what she  _said."_

Hope rubbed a hand over her eyes. "We had a…disagreement the list time we spoke." She hated how hollow her voice had become, her chest aching and tight thinking of Nomia with her hair the colour of the sea, the silvery scar against her face as she grinned. "Well, she never liked me pretending to be someone I'm not."

Léon sneered. "You're saying you did?"

Hope couldn't squelch a spike of irritation. "It's easier," she said as simply as she could manage.

His eyes were sharp and Hope could practically feel the annoyance pricking at the edges of her brain. It only increased her own annoyance. "Look," she snapped, her throat hoarse, "I didn't grow up like you did, okay? So, stop judging me with your ridiculously high standards."

Léon bared his teeth bitingly. "Oh, you mean privileged and in over her head?"

Hope was startled for a moment and then furious.  _"Privileged?"_  she demanded hotly. "What about privileged is having my parents murdered in front of me when I was one?"

Léon's eyes widened, but Hope had to keep going, fire burning through her veins in the stead of blood.

"What about privileged is being pushed down the stairs several times or being hit with a heavy saucepan or grabbed so tightly my arm was bruised?" They were nose to nose now and Léon could see the fire from the lanterns reflected in her eyes. "I had to run away from my mother's sister's family to make it to that manor, but  _sure_  I've lived a  _completely_  privileged life."

The arm she had looped into a makeshift sling remained slack but her free hand tightened into a fist.

But for some reason Léon smirked suddenly.

"What?" she demanded.

"That explains why Nomia took you on," he said finally. "You've got spirit."

Her whole face contorted in disdain and irritation.

"Tomorrow we'll see how much."

Hope's eyebrows arched and she was certain that she didn't like the look in his eye, like he was waiting for an explosion to happen. All Hope had to do was contain the blast.

* * *

Léon de Grammont dreamed of a woman with red hair, powerful and furious and afraid, bringing her hands together and chanting something indiscernible to Léon's ears. The woman was standing protectively in front of the crib bearing a small baby blinking eyes as green as the woman's in intrigue, she brought her hands up, making an 'x' with the first two fingers of both hands, her eyes glowing with light before she ripped them apart, sending a wave of power into the man before her.

Léon balked as he stared. He didn't think he'd ever seen a picture of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, but he'd read him described once; red eyes, skin bloodless, dressed in black.

He only managed a haphazard slash of green from his wand before he collided with wall with destructive force.

The woman hadn't even noticed that the half-cast Killing Curse had collided with her baby.

She shouted something and then everything exploded with light.

* * *

Hope Potter dreamed of a woman with long dreadlocks and calculating hazel eyes. The sword in her hand was drenched in blood and Hope watched dispassionately as the Red Coat that tried to run her through ended up a head shorter than when he started.

"Damn you, Isolde!" she snarled and for a brief moment all that Hope caught was a flash of fear.

The  _Concorde_  was forcing the Red Coats back and Hope could see the pride on her face, at her crew pushing them back, making them flee or die, but that moment was cut short.

Hope watched, horrified as the woman looked down at the sword poking through her stomach in a dumb confusion before it was yanked swiftly out by a man wearing her colours.

" _Maman!"_  the scream pierced the air, making it ripple, sending a powerful burst through the air that caused the man to collapse suddenly, blood gushing from his ears and Hope watched as a slightly younger Léon raced to his mother's side, stricken with rage and grief, trying to heal her wound.

* * *

"I'm  _fucked,"_  Léon told Laudine seriously.

"Explain." Laudine yawned widely, not fully awake enough to deal with his nonsense.

"I'm fucked like  _Maman_  was fucked," Léon said, like that explained everything.

Laudine's expression shuttered, flickering through surprise, horror, and dismay. "Léon, my dearest Capitaine…I am aware you are a healthy bisexual male with needs so maybe we should have that talk—"

"What?  _No!"_  His cheeks darkened. "That's not what I'm talking about at all! Banshee bonds, Laudine,  _fucking hell!"_

Laudine couldn't have looked more relieved. "Thank Melusina, I can't handle that…but banshee bonds, continue, dear."

Léon's eyebrow twitched at the endearment. "What do you know about them?"

Laudine ran a hand through her cropped short hair, ruffling it just slightly. "Not much. They're for life, forged by necessity, and—  _oh shit!"_  Her eyes widened as she looked on Léon. "Godling Girl El is your  _bondmate?_  Talk about lucking out."

He couldn't douse the glare he fixed in her direction. "There is absolutely  _nothing_  lucky about this situation. Just  _look at her!_  She's a ticking time bomb!"

"Coming from the explosion waiting to happen?" Laudine arched an eyebrow, which didn't improve Léon's mood. "Listen…Médée had shit luck with her bondmate, that's true and she was looking over her shoulder for years…" Léon looked away at the mention of his mother. "But El's not all bad."

" _Of course, she is!"_  Léon exploded. "She's impulsive and reckless and aggressive and stubborn—!"

"She's a lot like you, you mean," Laudine pointed out sagely.

"And her brain is always working and it's like she never stops thinking, she's got all these ideas about magic and spells and its driving me insane!"

"So, she's a bit of a genius when it comes to her wandless magic—"

"Earth Magick," Léon supplied dully.

"Earth Magick," Laudine agreed. "You saw what she could do on the  _Golden Fleece_ …do you really think that it's a bad thing to be connected to someone who has that kind of juice?"

"Isolde had juice," Léon grumbled. "Elpis is no less dangerous than she was."

"Isolde was  _psychotic,"_  Laudine corrected, her eyes flicking back to him. "El is…dealing with trauma…did you ever ask her about how she showed up here in the middle of the Atlantic?"

"No." Léon had been too busy being snippy with her to be asking her about how the fuck she'd even gotten to the ship in the first place.

"She developed a spell, probably a lot like the ones she's thinking up now, a teleportation spell." Laudine arched an eyebrow and Léon froze. "Teleportation is pretty advanced but she was describing something that sounded a lot like spatial displacement."

Léon stared at her blankly.

"Making a portal to instantly shift between locations," Laudine sighed. "Sounds a bit like what Médée could do."

Léon gritted his teeth together. The teleportation method his mother had developed was broadly known as Location Swapping but she'd often gone between calling it Trading and Switching. She'd made it out of necessity, though, a way to make a quick getaway…Elpis clearly was more into it for the intrigue, the desire for knowledge.

"She's smart and she's dangerous…not a bad thing to have on your side," Laudine pointed out.

Léon face tightened in disdain.

"Forcing yourself to hate her is a pretty bad idea, given that you're now bonded until one of you dies." He looked like he was sucking on a sour lemon and Laudine giggled. "She's a nice girl, fixed my arm for me, actually," she flexed the metal prosthetic where it had been fitted correctly finally, "obviously not  _your_  type…come to think of it, I don't think anyone's  _her_ type…you know Milun walked past her completely naked—"

"Why was Milun completely naked?" Léon felt mildly concerned.

Laudine waved a hand carelessly. "That's a minor detail, but she barely even registered him, and even then, it was more of a 'huh, that's what male anatomy looks like' kind of thing and then she went back to helping me…so I'm pretty sure she's asexual."

"Does  _she_  know that?"

"Well, I'm guessing not, given the rampant homophobia in the UK wizarding population, besides, she strikes me as the kind of person who would procrastinate on her sexuality." Laudine shrugged, her lips twitching. "She's young, it's all right that it's not important to her right now…you're just an early bloomer, I guess."

She winked and he rolled his eyes.

* * *

"Maybe we should be trying something else."

Daphne sighed. Hermione, the ever practical. It'd been a solid day now and they were stretching into the second day. "The last time we tried something, I astral projected to a ship of dead bodies and Hope  _literally_  laying waste to the people who killed those pirates."

"Red Coats," Hermione supplied absently, remembering the term Hope had used, though she was far too focused on the journal in her hands. "Daphne…have you ever looked at this?"

Daphne tore her eyes away from the lesson Flitwick was trying to teach to look to where Hope's journal was open in Hermione's hands. "I thought we weren't going to look in that."

Hermione gave her an appropriately sheepish look. She could never resist hidden knowledge. "Couldn't really help myself." Daphne was amused to note that she'd enchanted her quill to take notes while she flipped through Hope's journal.

"What about it?" Daphne finally asked, leaning over to look over Hermione's shoulder. Ink was splattered across the page in Hope's haste to write. There was a lot of personal stuff, about what Hope felt and what she was doing, some occasional riddles, but that wasn't what had caught Hermione's interest.

"She has a lot of ideas for spells in here," Hermione murmured. Even though they were sitting in the back of the classroom, it still wasn't the best idea to speak very loudly. "They look…impressive, but I guess she was annoyed when she wrote some of them." She slid it towards Daphne, who took it, blinking in surprise.

_Why sensory magic sucks and centre with a fucking crystal dipped in blood._

_Single point barriers are a huge fuck you if you want to stay alive._

_Want to freak out a Divination-nut? Curse their tarot cards, they won't read right for weeks._

_Astral projection and why you don't move your fucking body._

_Here's a good spell to torch yourself._

_Bottle your feelings instead of dealing with them on a professional level._

_Why necromance when you can summon spirits?_

_Here's a shield spell that will fail you every time._

Daphne's lips twitched. She could practically hear Hope's voice in her head.

"It sounds like she couldn't get these spells to work, though," Daphne pointed out quietly to Hermione, but the brunette shook her head.

"Some of them don't work, you can tell when she gets super annoyed." Hope left indents where that happened. "But even if they didn't work…what she put into it…she's got to be an Earth Magick genius."

"Wasn't she already that?"

Hermione gave Daphne a flat stare. "It's crazy how her brain works, is all. No wonder she doesn't like wand-magic as much. It's like her brain is hardwired for Earth Magick and against wand-magic, honestly."

Daphne could understand that. She drummed her fingers against the table, feigning interest in the lecture. "There is one thing we haven't tried," she murmured. It was a last ditch effort, really. Beseeching a god was always the last on the list of options, as her Nana had told her. "What d'you know about summoning a god?"

Hermione stared at her. "This is starting to sound like a terrible idea."

 _Well_ , Daphne thought,  _you aren't wrong._

"How do you even  _summon_  a god?" Hermione lowered her voice suddenly as Flitwick's voice faded suddenly and they were forced to pick up their wands and being practicing the repelling charm.

"I think it's generally specific to the god you're trying to communicate with…you've got to use their symbol in some way." Daphne frowned. "Hope's family is the only one I know that's actually tried to communicate with their godly ancestor…not that there are many of us to begin with." The last bit was grumbled quietly. "But if someone could help us find Hope, then wouldn't it be Thanatos? He's a god."

Still, her Nana's words echoed in the back of her mind: " _Never summon a god,_ paidi mou _, the gods may seem benevolent and loving but they can turn cruel and cold at a moment's notice. Be wary of what you seek."_

They decided to try it at lunchtime with Daphne sitting cross legged in front of a lit black candle on the short table in front of her and a grounding sigil from one of Hope's spells under her, while Hermione sat on the couch in Morea's Room.

Daphne interlocked her fingers in a would-be praying gesture and closed her eyes. "Look," she said, feeling every bit as tired as she had been when they'd been interrogated first by their professors and then by those wizards from the Ministry, "you barely know me, but your great-something-granddaughter is one of my best friends, and I—" Daphne's throat felt closed. "We're just trying to bring her home, and we need your help."

Silence followed her words and Daphne gave a forlorn sigh, but that was when she opened her eyes and two people jolted in their seats.  _"Whoa!"_

"Not usually the reaction I get, but I'm no prude," the woman, distinctly not Thanatos, sitting before Daphne said.

Strawberry-blonde hair twisted up in the Grecian fashion, garbed in a dress typical of that time.

"Um…who're you?" Daphne asked intelligently.

The woman laughed and she sounded like Daphne's Nana. "You summon a god and don't know what god you summoned? Seems like a bit of poor planning, if you ask me."

She twisted her fingers and Daphne shared a befuddled glance with Hermione as the woman drank from the goblet she'd materialized.

"Well, uh, no offense, but you, uh, weren't the god we were looking for," Daphne said as delicately as she could manage. "I don't even  _know_  which god you are."

The woman arched an eyebrow delicately, giving Daphne her full attention and Daphne was startled to find that she'd seen that exact look in her own reflection. "Surely you can guess which one I am, Daphne Pythia Anastas Greengrass."

Daphne's tongue had stopped working as she stared at the woman with wide eyes. Names were powerful, that was the first thing she'd been taught as a child. Daphne Pythia Anastas Greengrass was born on April 24th of 1980, but the name recorded was Daphne Pythia Greengrass.

Hermione's eyes shifted to Daphne. "Is that your full name?"

Daphne nodded hollowly. "You're Adrestia," she realized.

The woman's lips curved. "One of my names, yes, but you'll find I respond more to Nemesis."

"The goddess of revenge?  _Delightful."_  Daphne winced, regretting her words but Nemesis only smirked.

"Probably suits your friend than it does you, given how she ripped apart those Red Coats." She watched them, intrigued, as they both winced. "But your friend's a pirate and mercy kills faster than a blade at sea."

"So," Hermione said, her voice weak, "you know about Hope?"

Nemesis took another sip from her goblet. "I know about the Serpent Tongue, Elpis Slytherin…she's not a captain yet, is she? It's always hard keeping time straight in my head…"

"No, she's not," Daphne said flummoxed. "We've been trying to find her. I astral projected and scrying doesn't even work—"

"Hm…" Nemesis cut her off. "She's going to have a difficult year. Give her my sympathies." She patted her leg with emphasis and Daphne didn't know what that meant.

"I don't want her to have a difficult year," Daphne said sourly, "I just want her back here,  _safe."_

"Safety's overrated," Nemesis laughed, though not unkindly. "Nothing's safe if you have the ability to absorb life force and no way to turn it off. Some haven't been as lucky with inheriting godly gifts; your friend happens to be one of them."

"I don't—" Hermione stuttered in the stead of Daphne's voice failing.

"Have you ever heard the story about Thanatos' three sons?" Nemesis barrelled on and Daphne was sitting where she was, feeling rather like Nemesis didn't care and she was just goading them with information they didn't have. "To the third was gifted a cloak to hide from all including Death and the ability to move through shadow undetected. To the second went the stone that could recall the dead and the ability to bring them forth to comply to their will. And to the first went the wand that couldn't be defeated and the ability to drain life with a single touch. Your friend got, shall we say, the shitty end of the deal?"

Nemesis took another swig in the silence. Was Daphne going to have to worry about developing alcoholism at an early age? "It's given her a bit of a touch aversion. She's still settling so right now she's probably somewhere between screaming like she's on fire or vomiting. I doubt she's going to be a fan of anyone ever touching her again…unless they're a god, I suppose, or that banshee she's bonded to, I guess."

"I, wait,  _what?"_  Daphne was so confused with everything that Nemesis had said.

"A story for another time," the goddess decided, lips curling into a smirk and she gave her fingers a little twist. "This is the spell you need to make contact with your friend. Warning, it only works for sixty seconds. But I'll tell you a little something about your friend."

"You've been doing that," Daphne grumbled.

Nemesis' mouth twisted wryly. "Your friend? She won't ever be happy here in a school that teaches a magic she doesn't like surrounded by people that hinder her in one way or another. What do you think Elpis Slytherin prizes above everything else?"

Hermione frowned and Daphne furrowed her brow.

Nemesis sighed. "This is so painfully  _sad_ … _freedom_. Being in this place is probably like chaining herself to a wall or cutting off a leg." The second one seemed to amuse her more. "Now, I think you've taken up enough of my time, I've got places to be, balance to maintain, revenge to dole out."

"Just like that?" Hermione demanded.

"Just like that," Nemesis said, eyes shifting towards the girl. "You didn't really have much to offer here, a good offering would get you more…even so, Zeus doesn't like us interacting much with mortals since Elysium."

"Since…where heroes go when they die?" Daphne was totally lost.

"Well, that's one of them," Nemesis remarked grimly. "That tragedy is for another day."

And then she was gone.

"I'm going to take a leaf out of Hope's book and just say  _what the fuck,"_  Hermione decided and Daphne was caught somewhere between laughing at her foul language and agreeing.

"Nemesis," Daphne muttered faintly. " _Great."_

"Did she really tell us anything helpful?" Hermione muttered. "And what'd she mean Hope's gonna have a bad year?"

Hope always had one foot in trouble and one out, still, that wasn't necessarily Hope's fault.

Daphne uncreased the paper Nemesis had given her, looking down at the words scrawled there. "It's a rhyme:

_Hear these words, hear the rhyme,_

_heed the hope within my mind._

_Send me to where I'll find,_

_what I wish in place and time."_

The world faded to blackness as Daphne pitched forward suddenly into Hermione, and the last thing she heard was Hermione calling out her name in worry.

* * *

Daphne opened her eyes to a blue sea in the distance. She winced in the bright sunlight, shading her eyes with a hand. She could see a ship tethered at the shore with its anchor stuck in the sand.

Then she heard a loud: "What the  _fuck?"_  in a voice she knew very well.

Hope swelled in Daphne's chest as she whipped around to see her standing there. Her hair was bronze again, and eyes dark and somehow completely  _her._  There was a cloth sling for one arm and a patch of red growing at her shoulder, and another bandage was wound around her brow. A huge bruise took up the side of her face and Daphne could see a few more bruises and scrapes, but she was  _alive._

Hope had taken a step back to steady herself but the blade was hammering against hers again. "Are you  _trying_  to kill me?"

The boy opposite her Daphne was certain was the one that had pulled Hope back as she screamed for Nomia. His hazel eyes glinted in the sun and was wearing royal blue in the style of a seventeenth century pirate, though he pulled it off well. And Daphne had no idea why he was trying to kill her.

"I'm trying to piss you off, but, semantics," Léon responded, incredibly unconcerned and a whistle passed through Hope's teeth as she grit them tight.

She blocked and braced against his attack. She was adequate, Daphne had to concede, only good enough to survive, not enough to finish him off, something she was sure Hope was painfully aware of.

"Come  _on!"_  he goaded and Hope growled.

"Léon," called a woman with a metal arm, "maybe you should take a step back." It sounded like a warning.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Hope had removed her arm from the sling with a wince. She snapped her fingers, causing a spark that burst into flames. She was holding a ball of flames in her hand and wasn't burning.  _ **"Vlastós!"**_  It shot out of her hand and towards Léon's head.

He laughed as he ducked.

Daphne was running out of time. "Hope!" she yelled and Hope startled so badly Léon's next strike almost cut into her throat. "Hope, come home! I know—" She could feel something tugging her, like a rope around her midsection. "I know its sucks right now, but- Come home!"

Hope's eyes seemed to find her for a brief moment and then Daphne was thrown back into nothingness.

* * *

There wasn't really a way to tell Madam Pomfrey that she and Daphne had summoned a goddess and then Daphne used a spell said goddess had given them. Everything had been fine for exactly one minute and then blood had started leaking out of Daphne's nose, so Hermione stuck with what Hope famously called the 'I don't know' act.

She'd levitated Daphne's body out of the room and Michael the suit of armour -who had been following them around since Hope's disappearance, probably hoping she would reappear when he was in close proximity to them- had carried her to the hospital wing.

"She just sort of - _collapsed!"_  Hermione was appropriately concerned as Madam Pomfrey trailed her wand above Daphne's unconscious form when her eyes shot open and she leaned over and vomited onto the floor.

"Oh, my gods," she rasped. "I'm never doing that again!"

There was a flash of light not unlike the one that Hope had disappeared through a day previously and sounds of a scuffle.

Hermione whipped around and gasped.

There was Hope, bloodied and bruised with a sword through her shoulder and the boy holding that sword had a pistol under his chin.

"You complete  _cock,"_  Hope seethed.

"I'm not the one with a temper problem," the boy retorted.

" _I beg to fucking differ!"_  Hope's eyes were lit with fire. "Let's attack El when she least expects it! Let's tell her she's bonded to a guy who's a complete bastard that she probably wouldn't have picked in the first place! It's not like she's fucking  _traumatized_  from everyone she knows dying, or anything!"

The boy's lips curved in almost cruel amusement.

" _Fuck you,"_  she said soundly. "Stop bringing her up, she's an excuse not an argument."

"He isn't even talking," Daphne rasped in confusion.

"He's thinking it," Hope snarled taking the sword and wrenching it out of her shoulder. "That's worse." She twisted around to balk at Daphne. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, you know, communication spell gone wrong," Daphne said airily and Hope blinked in realization, as though it had just dawned on her that that was what had happened. "You all right?"

" _Your shoulder!"_  Hermione reached a hand out towards where the blood was blooming along her sleeve and Madam Pomfrey had extended her wand but Hope flinched and shied away from both.

"I'll get my own healer, thanks," she said shortly, narrowing her eyes at Madam Pomfrey and Hermione suddenly noticed there was a sword at her side that she didn't recognize. "I'll be okay," she told her friends, giving them a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm just going to get looked at, then I'm gonna get totally wasted."

"Huh?"

The boy arched an eyebrow.

"Oh,  _shut up_ , Léon," Hope muttered. "I'm twelve, that's old enough to drink my feelings at a professional level."

"Miss Potter," Madam Pomfrey had lowered her wand but now her hand was dropping to Hope's arm. "You're injured, I must insis—"

Hermione didn't know what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn't for Hope to open her mouth and scream like was burning, even if Nemesis had said such, seeing was believing. It was a terrifying sound, and it startled Madam Pomfrey enough to allow Léon rip Hope back.

She clutched at her arm instead of the bleeding shoulder, breath coming out short.

"Don't do that again," Léon's words were icy but he seemed almost protective, which Hermione thought was ironic since he had a sword through Hope's shoulder moments ago.

His eyes flicked towards Hope who took a rattling gasp. "I-I'm all right," she managed to force out.

"You're having a panic attack," Léon said, his words surprisingly patient. "Take a breath."

Hope inhaled sharply and exhaled shakily. He made her do it again and again until her breathing calmed and normalized. Her eyes were shining.

"Hope…" Daphne had pulled herself out of the cot and around the pool of sick.

"I'm fine, I'm just…overstimulated, I need -I need  _time."_  Hope's fingers trembled. "How long can you go without eating before you die, do you think?" Her eyes flicked towards Léon and she paused. "Guess I've got a week or two to figure it out."

He snorted and her lips twitched. "That's a lot of faith in me you've got, you rotten bastard."

"I actually have absolutely no faith in you," Léon told her, making her roll her eyes. "I mean, you're  _okay_  with the sword—" Hope huffed. "—and I'm not even gonna get into your little ' _touch of death'_ —" Hope flinched. "—but speaking as someone who's been hearing what's going on inside your head for the past few hours, you're smart enough to figure out a way to control something you consider uncontrollable."

Hope opened her mouth, shut it, and then opened it again, surprise clear on her face. "I…did you just  _compliment_  my magic? No…one's ever done that."

"You've been around wand-carriers too long, Elpis Slytherin," Léon grated. "Where's this healer of yours? I think you're going to rip yourself apart if try that teleportation thing again."

" _Rude,"_  Hope grumbled. "One second—" She flitted away from him to stand in front of her friends, probably as close as she could manage, giving Madam Pomfrey a wide berth. "Thank you," she told them seriously. "I got a bit…lost and turned around…I'm sorry for worrying you."

It would've been easy to rage at her in their worry, but Hope had always had a curious nature and the bruises and blood was tipping them more towards sympathy.

"You freaked us out," Daphne spoke around the lump in her throat. "Can you please not test your spells on the way to class?"

Hermione laughed and Hope's curved into an almost smile. "It's on my list," she promised, wincing as she moved her shoulder.

"Next time I'm firing a warning shot at your head," Hope told Léon.

"That wouldn't be a warning shot," he said wryly.

A dark smirk twisted her lips. "I know. Consider it payback for this bonding shit you roped me into."

"For the last  _fucking_  time! Banshees bond for  _survival!_  I don't have any—" And then they were gone.

Hermione and Daphne shared a befuddled expression.  _Banshee bonds?_

* * *

Hope considered it a miracle she was still standing, but at least it was raining in the little town of Dolgellau, hiding the dark colour of her blood just somewhat. There was a very official 'Out of Business' sign on the door of the little shop that she and Daphne and Hermione had sat in while Con described what the Gates of Tartarus did.

" _So, what happens if I have more questions?" Hope asked. "Come back here?"_

_Con smiled in amusement. "I suspect by the time you show up again I'll be gone." Hope's brow furrowed in confusion. "This shop was my mother's, actually, and I've barely been keeping it up and running. It will be closed by the time you need help. Come to the clinic down the road instead."_

" _Clinic?" Hope's eyebrow arched. "Like a hospital?"_

" _Lorekeeping is a family responsibility," Con informed her. "Healing is my specialty…so if you need healing or information…come there."_

Hope moved past the shop, her shoulder aching more with every step.

 _Did you have to stab me right through?_  She grumbled, hoping the thoughts stabbed him like knives. There was a lot she didn't understand about this whole Banshee bond. Right now, all she knew was that it allowed them to have conversations inside their heads, something Hope was certain that she didn't need or  _want_. This was turning out to be the most annoying turn of events.

He'd almost taken her head off when she'd caught his voice, burning through her brain, right after Daphne's had faded.

 _Oh, please_ , his voice scoffed.  _You're the one that ran into my sword to keep me from using it…your strategy kinda backfired on you, didn't you notice?_

"It was a draw," Hope hissed out loud, earning a strange look from a woman moving past her.

_You got lucky, you crazy bitch._

_Don't be such a rotten bastard, Léon_. Hope rolled her eyes.  _You're trying really hard at being a complete cock._

 _You're trying really hard at being some prim little girl,_  Léon fired back,  _but then I've seen you take off heads._

Hope's lips thinned.  _Guess we've both got to try at not pretending to be something we're not._

There was a long, stilted silence _. I didn't want a bond with anyone, let alone you._

Hope started in surprise, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk, her toes cold on the ground.

_My mother bonded to someone who made her look over her shoulder until the day she died. I didn't trust you from the start because of the whole Parseltongue thing. You might've saved my life, but I don't trust easily._

Hope frowned at the mention of her snake speech.  _And you think I do? I don't, but I also don't want to be looking over my shoulder until I die…trust goes both ways._

And then his presence receded from her mind.

"Better than nothing, I guess," Hope muttered aloud before seizing the door and yanking it open and striding inside with a "Con? You here?"

* * *

It was all about the game, really. Mortals could be such funny creatures, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things and so short-sighted that they quickly devolved to chaos with no memory of what war had done to them before.

The UK Wizarding World had seemingly forgotten Grindelwald's devastation when they refused to learn and allow Voldemort to gain power, though she couldn't deny she'd played a hand in that, after all, causing strife and inciting conflict had been what she'd done since her creation.

She'd played a hand in every battle, in every war, in every disagreement. Blowing things up on a global scale was her absolute favourite.

There was a set of tiles spread before her in the likeness of a chess board, though the designs far too treacherous for that, the terrain ever-shifting.

Elpis the Lost.

Léon the Wary.

Their pieces were the most fun to move around, throwing things in their way. Twisting Elpis' internal compass, making it difficult to find her, let alone allow her to return home had been a good trick. But Nemesis was pesky. For every moment her playthings were ripped down, Nemesis built them back up, and giving that spell to her descendant was going to cost her in the end.

The bond wasn't something she'd expected, after all, the pair didn't seem to like each other very much, but she could work with that.

Albus Dumbledore might delude himself into thinking he was the puppetmaster, but he couldn't have been more wrong. He'd worked hard to get things to go his way but he'd lose ground eventually, just like that pesky little Voldemort.

No, she was focused on bigger and better things.

"Trials and tribulations await you, Elpis Slytherin," she hummed, tapping the girl's piece on the board one space ahead. "I do love an unwitting pawn."

Eris' lips curved into a deathly smile. "Now, the game shall truly begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of the heaviest chapters I've written and will write for book two, setting up a lot of the future events occurring later on, mostly in book two. Yes: I definitely stole the wording of Daphne's spell from Charmed.
> 
> Leon's still a dick, but he and Hope are kind of in a bad place right now, eventually they're going to stop poking each other where it hurts; they only slightly trust each other.
> 
> Hope is ace af and isn't familiar with the term and Leon is bi as hell. This fic is way gayer than LB.
> 
> Eris is important, but she'll be in the background mostly for awhile. And I've subtly hinted at a future plot point that you guys might not pick up until it actually happens.
> 
> Hope's gift really sucks and its going to cause her a lot of problems…next chapter :)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr  [@greygryffindor](http://greygryffindor.tumblr.com/)        
> 
> Fanarts for Serpent Tongue   
> [Hope -Yule Ball](http://a-world-in-grey.tumblr.com/post/162390252366/hope-potter-at-the-yule-ball-for-greygryffindor)  
> [Ginny -Yule Ball](http://a-world-in-grey.tumblr.com/post/162310703406/stginny-weasley-yule-ball-for-greygryffindor)            
> [Hope, Hermion, and Daphne Polaroid](http://a-world-in-grey.tumblr.com/post/166588257251/for-greygryffindor-the-muses-at-16-years-old-no)   


End file.
